Ukiyo-e woodblock prints may have been a phenomenon of the 16th to early 20th century, but the cultural influence of that vast body of artworks continues to make itself felt today. The Japonisme movement of the late 19th century brought ukiyo-e to an international audience, and one can trace the roots of manga back in part to the aesthetic styles and visions portrayed in these woodblock prints.
In this piece we introduce six more woodblock prints — all masterpieces in their own right, but also notable for their cultural impact and their continued relevance today.
Lovers in an Upstairs Room, No. 10 of 12 illustrations, from Utamakura (Poem of the Pillow) by Kitagawa Utamaro
Sex may not have been the most genteel of subjects for fine art, but it was a well-loved and popular category of ukiyo-e across all social groups. These prints were known as shunga (somewhat euphemistically, “spring pictures”), depicting a wide variety of sexual customs—between men and women, but also with animals, ghosts, and other supernatural creatures. From voyeuristic illustrations to manuals on erotic techniques to bawdy, humorous scenarios, few subjects were taboo in the world of shunga — at least until they were banned around the middle of the 19th century.
Lovers in an Upstairs Room is one of Kitagawa Utamaro’s most famous shunga. It is one of a dozen illustrations in Utamakura, a book printed in 1799 by major publishing house Tsutaya Jūzaburō. “Utamakura” is a concept in which poetical epithets are associated with place names; no specific places are mentioned here, but it does play on the word “makura” (pillow) to suggest intimate bedroom activity.
Most shunga of the period are sexually explicit. Many include impossibly-sized phalluses and enlarged, hairy genitalia rendered in loving detail, the overall effect being one of absurd humour and parody. In that sense, Lovers in an Upstairs Room is comparatively tasteful, and stands out for having none of these elements. Rather, there is a tender, sensual pleasure on display here. The lovers are entwined in passion, their faces not visible to the viewer. The only real display of flesh here is the woman’s bottom peeking out of her scarlet kimono.
In lieu of explicit detail, the print offers subtler forms of genital symbolism. One example, as outlined by Timon Screech in Sex and the Floating World, is the stacked cups and a bowl. This can be read as the couple mounting one another, where the “‘leg’ of one [is inserted] into the ‘basin’ of the other.” In front of the bowl is an open clam shell, a common euphemism for a vagina. Furthermore, there is a verse by comic poet Yadoya no Meshimori (the poetic name of Ishikawa Masamochi) on the man’s hand fan that reads: Its beak caught firmly / in the clam shell / the snipe cannot rise up / Autumn evening. (‘Meshimori’ is also a term for maidservants at inns who also worked as prostitutes.) Taken as a whole, the picture seems to suggest that the woman is on equal footing with the man here.
by Katsushika Hokusai
For better or for worse, this is probably the most (in)famous example of shunga. Fans of The Great Wave may or may not be surprised to learn that the same artist (Hokusai) was responsible for this memorable piece of erotic art, in which two octopuses — the smaller one is the offspring of the larger — pleasure a nude woman with their limbs and mouths. With its vibrant pinks, yellows and greens, and the expressive linework, it is an artwork at once playful, elegant, and transgressive.
Contemporary Japanese audiences would have recognised the print as referencing a scene from the legend of Princess Tamatori the female abalone diver, who steals a pearl from the Dragon King. While most Western audiences have interpreted this scene as rape, the dialogue in the background shows that both the woman and the octopuses are engaged in mutual sexual pleasure. (For the full translation of the rather salacious text in the background, see this Reddit comment.) Indeed, the English title, The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife, creates a completely new scenario that is not present in the original. The diver is now a wife, and the scene becomes one of rape or adultery because of an imaginary husband outside of the story.
Tako to Ama is considered a forerunner of tentacle erotica, which many of us have encountered in one form or another, whether in manga, anime, or hentai. (The egregious scene involving Asuna and two slugs in episode 21 of Sword Art Online comes to mind.) However, it was not the first Japanese artwork to depict erotic relations between a woman and an octopus — there were earlier woodblock prints by more obscure artists such as Kitao Shigemasa and Shunshō Katsukawa. Hokusai’s contemporary Yanagawa Shigenobu also released Suetsumuhana, which depicts a woman receiving cunnilingus from an octopus in a strikingly similar fashion to Hokusai’s composition.
Left: Andō Hiroshige's original Right: Vincent Van Gogh's copy
Plum Garden at Kameido from One Hundred Views of Edo by Utagawa Hiroshige (Andō Hiroshige)
Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858, also known as Andō Hiroshige) is the only Edo period woodblock print artist who could be said to have rivalled Hokusai in both quality and output. While his life was by all accounts quiet and unremarkable, he was devoted to his art, producing over 5,000 works (that are attributed to him) across his lifetime — primarily landscapes of scenes encountered during his travels across Japan. His career as an artist coincided with a boom period for domestic travel among commoners as well as the introduction of Prussian blue into the Japanese market, and his prints were immensely popular as souvenirs.
Plum Garden at Kameido (1857) is one of Hiroshige’s most recognisable prints from his series One Hundred Famous Views of Edo (modern-day Tokyo). Garyūbai, or the “Sleeping Dragon Plum,” was located on the banks of the Sumida River in Kameido, and was the most famous tree in Edo at the time. According to one contemporary guidebook, it had blossoms “so white when full in bloom as to drive off the darkness,” and branches that snaked across an area of 50 square feet so as to resemble a dragon. Of particular note here is the use of exaggerated single-point perspective, where the object in the foreground is brought extremely close to the ‘lens,’ with the effect of drawing the viewer’s eye to the scene beyond.
The print stands on its own merits, but is especially famous because it is one of two Hiroshige prints copied by Vincent Van Gogh in 1887. Van Gogh’s version features more vibrant — one might even say brash — colours than the original, but otherwise hews largely to Hiroshige’s print in terms of its cropped composition, large blocks of colour, strong outlines, and diagonal elements. Van Gogh also added additional orange borders with Japanese characters, probably to emphasise its ‘Japanese-ness.’
Sudden Shower Over Shin-Ohashi Bridge and Atake by Utagawa Hiroshige (Andō Hiroshige)
Sudden Shower Over Shin-Ohashi Bridge and Atake (1857) is another Hiroshige masterpiece from One Hundred Famous Views of Edo, and is widely considered one of his best. Here, we see a torrential summer downpour at the Shin-Ohashi Bridge that stretches over the Sumida River (still standing today), several Edo-ites scurrying across for shelter. Writer Mary Rose O’Reilley describes this scene most elegantly in her memoir: “...a village scene, its indigo space bisected by a delicate orange bridge, people covering their heads against the black slant of rain, people who will never in this world get home.”
It is a striking piece, both in terms of composition and colour. The use of bokashi — gradations of colour through applying varying amounts of ink to the printing block — in Prussian blue creates the darkening of the sky, evoking the weight of this summer storm. The hints of red in the women’s kimono add bright, contrasting accents to the blues and greys of a rainy day. There is a tremendous sense of visual movement and life in the piece: the rain falls at an angle to the bridge, evoking wind and energy, allowing our eyes to roam endlessly over the lines in this piece; the tiny figures, dwarfed by the elements, are caught mid-scurry, heading out of the picture frame; even the boatman’s lumber barge is en route elsewhere.
Vincent Van Gogh also painted a copy of this in 1887, titling it Bridge in the Rain (after Hiroshige), capturing a similar sense of movement and energy. As with Plum Garden, Kameido, he uses slightly more vibrant colours (and a far more intense Prussian Blue), adding a border with (somewhat illegible) Japanese characters.
An Upper-Class Wife of the Meiji Era (Sanpogashitasô Meiji nenkan saikun no fûzoku; Looking As Though She Is Enjoying A Stroll), from Thirty-Two Aspects of Customs & Manners by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi
While the quality of ukiyo-e prints published during the Meiji period (1868-1912) rarely reached the heights of those produced during the Edo period, many of them are valuable records of Japanese society at the time, giving us insights into changing fashions and customs during the transitional period from traditional Edo to westernising Japan. Thirty-Two Aspects of Customs & Manners (1888), a ‘physiognomic’ series by woodblock print artist Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839-1892), is one such example. This series is one of several that depicted “types” of women; another example I have previously touched on is Utamaro’s Ten Physiognomies of Women. The number thirty-two, in particular, references the thirty-two notable features of Buddha.
Tsukioka’s series explores the evolution of women from the late 18th century through to his own time, featuring women across all social classes. This print depicts a woman strolling in an iris garden. She resembles the women depicted in classic bijin-ga (pictures of beautiful women) but unusually, she is clad in full Western-style dress, holding a parasol and wearing a straw hat and a bright blue bowtie. The woman in the print is strolling in what is probably an iris garden at Horikiri, where fashionable denizens of Edo were often seen. Moreover, the Meiji empress was a pioneer of Victorian fashion during her time, inspiring many women to adopt Western dress. As such, this print likely captures a moment of modern womanhood in the Meiji era.
Kamisuki (Combing the Hair) by Hashiguchi Goyō
Hashiguchi Goyō (1880-1921) was not an ukiyo-e artist as such. He had begun his career as a celebrated oil painter and book designer, but later in (his short) life devoted his energies towards reviving the dying tradition of woodblock printing. Hashiguchi was considered a pioneer in the shin-hanga (lit. ‘new prints’) movement of the early 20th century, bringing the sensitivity and academic Western approach of Degas and Renoir to his prints of beautiful women.
The shin-hanga movement retained the traditional collaborative system between artist, carver, printer, and publisher, but brought Western elements to the designs, including a focus on the impression of light and expressions of individual moods. In the case of Hashiguchi, he usually began with life sketches, which tended to result in a final figure with more depth and three-dimensional realism than traditional ukiyo-e.
Kamisuki (1920) is perhaps Hashiguchi’s finest work. It was based on life sketches of model Kodaira Tomi, shown here in a floral-patterned nemaki (sleeping kimono) combing her luxuriant tresses. Her lips are soft pink, formed by the use of bokashi printing. It is a surprisingly intimate and tender moment captured here. Here, we can also see that printing and woodblock carving technology had advanced to a point where it was possible to create extraordinarily fine, detailed lines for individual strands of hair.
Written by Florentyna Leow