The Japanese woman, with her untrammelled form arrayed in draperies designed by consummate artists, may dare to follow classic Kiyonaga—youth and grace may acquire oriental plasticity. But let fashion rest there. Pitiful and ludicrously futile is the effort of embonpoint to attain sinuosity. Lines of beauty cannot be manufactured; as well imagine the slender stem of the lotus encircled in steel, its curves determined by a multiplicity of wires and tapes.
Although the leaders of Ukiyo-ye followed so closely in the footsteps of Kiyonaga that his type of face stamps the years from 1780 to 1790, yet his style was too classic, too noble to suit the taste of the Yedo populace, which, in its thirst for realism, had become depraved. Rather than lower his standard he chose to resign, leaving the field to his followers, Yeishi, Utamaro and Toyokuni. These masters, at first as dignified in their method as Kiyonaga, now yielded to the public craze for the exaggerated, the abnormal and grotesque. It was an apotheosis of ugliness and vulgarity, a “Zolaism in prints.”
Coarse pictures of actors, masquerading in female dress, replaced the charming little domestic women of Harunobu and Koriusai,—the ladies of Japan, as we see them in reality,—and the noble figures of Kiyonaga. Gigantic courtesans, bizarre and fantastic, with delirious headgear, took the place of Shunsho’s fair children of the “Underworld,” who, in the modesty of their mien, seemed to belie the calling they so often deplored, as the songs of the Yoshiwara testify, plaintively sung to the syncopated rhythm of the samisen, tinkling through the summer nights.
The school of Ukiyo-ye was sinking into obscurity, when Hiroshige and Hokusai appeared, two children of light, dispersing the gloom: Hiroshige, the versatile painter, lover of landscape and ethereal artist of snow and mist; Hokusai, the prophet, and regenerator of Ukiyo-ye. He was the artisan-artist, in the land which recognizes no inferior arts, and the Mang-wa, consisting of studies as spontaneously thrown off as those in the sketch-book Giorgione carried in his girdle, was published for the use of workmen. Living in simplicity and poverty he gave his life to the people, and the impression of his genius is stamped upon their work. A true handicraftsman was Hokusai,—the Mang-wa a dictionary of the arts and crafts, as well as the inspired vehicle of art. In it “balance, rhythm and harmony, the modes in which Beauty is revealed, both in nature and art,” were manifested,—for he was a vital artist, laying bare the enigma of evolution, and the mystery of creation.
The Actor Kikugoro. By Toyokuni I, the great Actor-Designer and Master of Mimetic Art.
Utamaro.
Le Fondateur de L’École de la Vie.
HE above title is quoted from the work of M. Edmond de Goncourt, “as one having authority,” there being many claimants to the leadership of Ukiyo-ye (the floating world), the Popular School of Japanese Art. In the life of Utamaro, M. de Goncourt, in exquisite language and with analytical skill, has interpreted for us the meaning of that form of Japanese art which found its chief expression in the use of the wooden block for colour-printing, and to glance appreciatively at the work of both artist and author is the motive of this sketch.
The Ukiyo-ye print, despised by the haughty Japanese aristocracy, became the vehicle of art for the common people of Japan, and the names of the artists who aided in its development are familiarly quoted in every studio, whilst the classic painters of “Tosa” and “Kano” are comparatively rarely mentioned. The consensus of opinion in Japan during the lifetime of Utamaro agrees with the verdict of M. de Goncourt. No artist was more popular. His atelier was besieged by editors giving orders, and in the country his works were eagerly sought after, when those of his famous contemporary, Toyokuni, were but little known. In the “Barque of Utamaro,” a famous surimono, the title of which forms a pretty play upon words, maro being the Japanese for vessel, the seal of supremacy is set upon the artist. Here he is represented as holding court in a gaily decorated barge, surrounded by a bevy of beauty paying homage to his genius. He was essentially the painter of women, and though M. de Goncourt sets forth his astonishing versatility, he yet entitles his work, “Outamaro, le Peintre des Maisons Vertes.”