Grace and delicacy mark the idyllic compositions of Harunobu and his successor Koriusai (the face of the Japanese woman is the face of Harunobu, Koriusai, Shunsho and his school). M. de Goncourt says: “The Japanese woman is lithe, little, and rounded. Out of this woman Utamaro created the slender, svelte woman of his prints,—a woman who has the delicate outlines of an early Watteau sketch. Before Utamaro, Kiyonaga had drawn women, larger than nature, but fleshy and thick. The face of the ordinary Japanese woman is short and squat, and except for the inexpressible vivacity and sweetness of the black eyes it is the face which Harunobu, Koriusai and Shunsho represented. Out of this face Utamaro created a long oval. He slid into the traditional treatment of the features a mutinous grace, a naïve astonishment, a spiritual comprehension; and he was the first artist who attempted, while preserving the consecrated traditional lines, to blend with them a human expression, so that his best prints become real portraits. Studying them, we no longer see only the universal, but the individual face, and, unlike the other Japanese artists, he idealizes his countrywoman through the mimicry of her gracious humanity.”
The women of Kiyonaga have a more than human dignity and grace, the classic folds of his drapery recalling figures of the Renaissance. The Japanese artist always has an underlying motive in the disposition of his drapery. The most recognizable perhaps are those called “Guantai,” signifying rude, with angular outlines, and “Rintai,” delicate, supple and wavy, like the undulations of a river.
In the “Guantai” motive we see the angles of the rocks, even in the most delicate folds of drapery. In “Rintai” no angle is visible. Here wavelike ripples descend, flowing around the feet of the wearer. In these swirls of drapery are realized the Buddhist conceptions of Life in everything,—the lines are moving, sentient, and all but the leading folds that determine the lines of the figure are suppressed. The Japanese painter knows that the true master selects, does not draw all he sees, but concentrates his efforts towards reproducing the lines of movement, and in figures, the lines of the limbs and flowing drapery. In their designs for dresses the artists of Ukiyo-ye emphasized the theorem that art is the love of certain balanced relations and proportions, for they planned dresses in which every separate part is welded into one harmonious whole. They solved theories in colour, and delighted in selecting as trials for their skill the most unmanageable patterns, such as plaids and checks. They extolled “Notan” or the decorative use of values.
Two Ladies. By Yeishi, who gave to his faces a mystic, even religious expression, like the women of the Middle Ages.
In the best prints the decoration of the dress fits in with the scheme of the picture. M. de Goncourt says: “If the figures are represented out of doors, flowers seem to be shed upon the dresses, as if the wearer passed beneath blossoming trees. If the artist paints butterflies on a costume, they harmonize with the background. If peonies are used he alternates their whiteness with a purple tint. And how admirable is their use of relief! Upon a blue or mauve gown, how charming is the white relief of an embossed cherry petal, and so marvellously executed is this goffering, that many of the oldest impressions retain the impression as perfectly as if only printed yesterday.” Utamaro at first equalled Kiyonaga in the majesty of his figures, later he lost beauty and strength in exaggeration. Yeishi shows a striking resemblance to Utamaro, and he, too, followed after Kiyonaga: his studies of women are noted for their refined elegance. Yeisen compares with Utamaro in the grace with which he portrays women, and Yeizan’s lines are stronger, but show a marked similarity. Hartmann says: “The linear beauties of the representations of Yeizan, Yeishi, Yeisen, impress one like a Nautch, like some languid oriental dance in which the bodies undulate with an almost imperceptible vibration. The Japanese see in a woman, a glorification of all beautiful things—they even study the natural grace of the willow, plum and cherry trees, to find the correct expression of her movements.”
Toyokuni was the master of mimetic art. In his actor faces he runs the gamut of emotion,—jealousy, passion, fiendish fury and concentrated cunning, rush at us from his prints. Toyokuni, the Marionette maker, forced life into the forms of his puppets, and later the same power is shown in his designs for the block. Like many of the Ukiyo-ye artists, he employs caricature, but his figures are living, sentient.
M. de Goncourt says: “In comparing two books by Utamaro, and Toyokuni, illustrating the occupations of the women of the Yoshiwara Toyokuni, often the equal of Utamaro in his triptychs is beaten by his rival. His women have not the elegance, the willowy grace, the figures of Utamaro possess, nor their resplendent personality. His pictures lack the spirit, the life, the ‘trick’ of voluptuousness of the women of the ‘Flower Quarter.’ Then the comic note which Toyokuni sought for in representing these scenes, adds triviality to his work. In short, to judge between the rival painters, one has only to place side by side a woman painted by Utamaro and one by Toyokuni. The first is a little marvel, the second only a commonplace print.” Kunisada followed in the footsteps of his master Toyokuni, adding charming backgrounds, which he borrowed from Hiroshige; in fact, the Hiroshige are said to have supplied many backgrounds to the prints of Kunisada and Kuniyoshi.
Hokusai used all methods, acknowledged no school. His lines flowing out of the prescribed limits hint at vast stretches of country. Swirls of waves foam up in the impressions, supplying an alphabet of motion. In Mang-wa is blent sweetness and power, structure and the fundamental vital motive, underlying all art. When working for the engraver he was concise, rapid and impulsive, but when contemplating nature he sketched in freedom,—his execution became fairylike.
