Utamaro. Edmond de Goncourt

      “The Fukuju Tea-House” (Fukuju), c. 1794–1795.

      Ōban, nishiki-e, 38.2 × 25.3 cm. The British Museum, London.

      The Nakadaya Tea-House (Nakadaya), 1794–1795.

      Ōban, nishiki-e, 35.8 × 25 cm.

      Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.

      “Reed Blind” (Misu), from the series “Model Young Women Woven in Mist” (Kasumi-ori musume hinagata), c. 1794–1795.

      Ōban, nishiki-e, 36.8 × 24 cm.

      Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, Dresden.

      “Man and Woman beside a Free-Standing Screen” (Tsuitate no danjo), c. 1797. Ōban, nishiki-e, 37 × 25.9 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

      The favourite subjects of the painters of the school of Kanō were primarily Chinese philosophers and holy men, and mythological and legendary heroes represented in various attitudes against very conventional backgrounds, made up of clouds and mist, alternating with emblematic elements. Many of the holy men and heroes of the school of Kanō show a striking resemblance to medieval themes, for they are often represented floating above masses of twisted clouds, wrapped in airy drapery, their heads encircled by a halo.

      The early Kanō artists had reduced painting to an academic art and had destroyed naturalism until the time when the genius of Kanō Masanobu, who gave his name to the school, and that of his son, Kanō Motonobu (1476–1559), the true “Kanō”, came along to add the warmth of colours and the harmony of composition to the Chinese models and their monochromatic monotony, regenerating and enlivening this style.

      During the anarchistic period of the fourteenth century, Japanese art stagnated, but a renewal followed, very similar to the Renaissance in the West. In Japan, as in Europe, the fifteenth century was fundamentally an age of renewal. By the end of that century the principles of Japanese art were permanently fixed, as in Florence where, at almost the same time, Giotto was establishing the canons of art which he had himself inherited from the Greeks of Attica, through Cimabue, and which John Ruskin condensed into a grammar of art, under the title of the Laws of Fésole. It has been said that Japanese art in the nineteenth century was nothing more than a reproduction of the works of the great masters of the past, and that the methods and manners of the artists of the fifteenth century served as examples for generations thereafter. The prestige and influence of the fifteenth century were enhanced by Tosa Mitsunobu (1434–1525) and by the two great artists of the school of Kanō, Kanō Masanobu and Kanō Motonobu, of whom it was said that he “could fill the air with beams of light.”

      The two major schools, Tosa and Kanō, evolved separately until the middle of the eighteenth century, when the genius of the popular artists, coming together as the Ukiyo-e* school, brought about the progressive merger of their traditions, absorbing the methods of the two rival schools, which, although divergent in their techniques and motivations, were united by their haughty disdain for this new art, which dared to represent the manners and customs of the common folk. Suzuki Harunobu (1724–1770) and Katsushika Hokusai (1760–1849), Torii Kiyonaga (1752–1815) and Utagawa Hiroshige (1797–1858) were the shining lights of these schools, artists whose genius narrated the story of their country, day by day, weaving a century of history into a living encyclopaedia, sumptuous in its form, kaleidoscopic in its colours.

      The Ukiyo-e* bridged the gap and became the representative of both schools, causing an expansion in this art which would never have happened under its aristocratic rivals. Japanese art seems always to have been subject to these kinds of reciprocal influences. The school of Tosa, famous for its delicacy, the minutiae of its details and the brilliance of its colours, succumbed to the dynamic power of black and white from the school of Kanō. The latter, in turn, was modified by the bright colours introduced by Kanō Masanobu (1434–1530) and Kanō Motonobu (1476–1559). Later, the rich palette of Miyagawa Choshun (1683–1753) replaced the monochromatic simplicity of Hishikawa Moronobu (1618–1694), the inspiration for the Ukiyo-e* wood carvers.

      The 1790s were a turning point in the development of Ukiyo-e*: from the point of view of technique, the colour block print was perfected, using successive printings onto the same proof using several blocks inked with different colours. These multicoloured xylographs printed on thick paper using the technique of embossing to enliven the white surfaces, are referred to as nishiki-e*. They were the avant-garde of an unconventional art which dealt with the populace and daily life. The realism of the poses, attitudes, and movements thus gave a nearly photographic view of the day-to-day existence of women under the Empire of the Rising Sun. The Ukiyo-e* block print, scorned by the arrogant Japanese aristocracy, became an artistic medium for the common folk of Japan, and the names of its artists were bandied about with familiarity in every atelier, much more so than the names of the classic painters of the schools of Tosa and of Kanō.

      The time of Utamaro was the period which saw a great expansion in publishing, through the broadening of the public and diversification in the kinds of works offered. Thus, a market for illustrated books and books for “entertainment” (goraku) grew up, starting from the middle of the eighteenth century in Edo, the place of residence of the Tokugawa shoguns who wielded the actual political power, in Osaka, the great commercial centre for the eastern part of Japan, or in Kyōto, the imperial capital. The publishers of these works, organised into guilds different from those of the publishers of “serious” books, outdid each other in finding ingenious ways to meet the increasing demand from a public eager for illustrated romantic or humorous stories. This public included not only the lowest classes, whose literacy rate was probably high, owing to the “temple schools” (terakoya), but also educated warriors or merchants seeking clever entertainment and more subtle humour, or just beautiful picture books. Booksellers and publishers were always on the lookout for a talented Ukiyo-e* writer or painter who could assure them of a successful publishing run.

      The Ukiyo-e* paved the way for the opening of Japan to other nations, by developing among the population an interest in other countries, in foreign knowledge and culture, and by promoting the desire to travel by means of books illustrated with diverse and varied scenes. It was to the Ukiyo-e* that the Japanese owed the progressive germination of an international conscience culminating with the revolution of 1868, which broke out as though miraculously. However, the ferments of this apparently spontaneous arrival of the Meiji era (1868–1912) were spread by the artists of the Ukiyo-e*.

      “Miyahito of the Ōgiya, [kamuro: ] Tsubaki, Shirabe” (Ōgiya uchi Miyahito, Tsubaki, Shirabe), c. 1793–1794.

      Ōban, nishiki-e with white mica ground, 38.2 × 25.5 cm.

      Honolulu Academy of Arts, Honolulu.

      “Appearing Again: Naniwaya Okita” (Saishutsu Naniwaya Okita), from the series “Renowned Beauties Likened to the Six Immortal Poets” (Kōmei bijin rokkasen), c. 1796. Ōban, nishiki-e, 38.5 × 26 cm. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

      Dressing the Hair (Kami-yui), 1794–1795.

      Ōban, nishiki-e, 38 × 25.2 cm.

      Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.

      II. The Pictorial Works

      “Stone Bridge” (Shakkyō), from the series “An Array of Dancing Girls of the Present Day” (Tōsei odorido-zoroe), c. 1793–1794. Ōban, nishiki-e, 35.8 × 24.3 cm. Henri Vever Collection.

      The work of Utamaro, which is diverse and ample, is in line with Japanese tradition, which however, he interprets in a very personal way. It includes pictorial works of various