Masayoshi and the Wind in Hokusai’s Wave Off Kanagawa

Katsushika Hokusai: The Wave Off Kanagawa, 1830, detail (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York JP 2569)

Yes, I do believe that Masayoshi is the Father and that it could also well be the Wind that made Hokusai’s Wave so Great. For quite some time, I have been convinced that Hokusai was first inspired by Shiba Kōkan 司馬江漢 (1747-1818) for his 1830 masterpiece, Under the Hollow of the Wave Off Kanagawa, Kanagawa oki no namiura , 神奈川沖波裏, now most popularly known as The Great Wave. I am still convinced that Hokusai’s first inspiration was Kōkan’s View of Kamakura and the Seven League Beach In Sagami Province, Sōshū Kamakura Shichirigahama no zu 総州鎌倉七里浜図, a painting in oil completed on the 24th day of the 6th month of 1796. Among the many Edoites who went to see the painting when it was donated and displayed at the Atagosan Shrine at Shiba, it cannot be doubted that Hokusai was one of them. And he simply must have thought ‘Well, I can do better.’ He demonstrated this in his plate for the luxurious album of kyōka poems, Threads of the Willow, Yanagi no ito 『柳の糸』, published by Tsutaya Jūzaburō 蔦屋重三郎 (1751-1797) at the New Year of 1797. In his design, he replaced Kōkan’s rather small figures of a fisherman and his attendant by two fashionably clad Edo townswomen talking to a local girl, a man with a load looking on. This group of people thus becomes the direct focus in the composition, but Hokusai also made the wave that already rolls onto the beach in the Kōkan painting, considerably bigger.

Katsushika Hokusai: Spring at Enoshima, from the Threads of the Willow album, 1797 (Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston 21.10254)

Some years later, in early Bunka, around 1804-06, Hokusai would again focus on waves, but now their size and might can really be understood from the boats that conspicuously figure in two designs of obviously Western inspired compositions. One of these, in the larger medium aiban format, is titled Honmoku Off Kanagawa, Kanagawa oki Honmoku no zu 神奈川沖本杢之図, written horizontally, thus underlining the Western association, a title somewhat like the Kanagawa oki no namiura of his 1830 design. Here we see two sailing boats among large waves by a rocky coast. The other print, in the smaller medium chūban format, is titled Oshiokuri Boats Navigating the Waves Oshiokuri hatō tsūsen no zu おしおくりはとうつうせんのづ, again written horizontally, in imitation of Western writing. The so-called oshiokuri boats have no sails and are being rowed by a party of men and are used for speedy transport of goods from one harbour to another. Moreover, these are the same as the boats that we see in his 1830 Wave Off Kanagawa print.

Katsushika Hokusai: Oshiokuri Boats Navigating the Waves, c. 1804-06 (Courtesy: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston 21.6678)

Consequently, there is an undeniable connection between these two prints of the Bunka period and the Wave Off Kanagawa of 1830: there is the wording ‘Off Kanagawa,’ and the presence of the so-called oshiokuri skiffs. However, the only connection between the Threads of the Willow plate and the 1830 Wave Off Kanagawa print are the waves, rolling onto the beach in the former, and in the open sea in the latter. Moreover, what we see in the chūban format print is a fantastic high-rising billow that seems to find its culmination in the Wave Off Kanagawa print of the Fuji series.

This is how far I was in the introduction to the catalogue of my Hokusai. Prints and Drawings to complement the exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts, London, 1991 (surprisingly, still in print). Later, I also expanded this in an essay titled ‘Influenze occidentali nell’arte di Hokusai’ in Gian Carlo Calzo, Ed., Hokusai. Il vecchio pazzo per la pittura. Milano, 1999, pp. 37-45, and still later also in English as ‘Western influences in Hokusai’s art’ in Gian Carlo Calza, Ed., Hokusai. London, 2003, pp. 23-31. However, this still raises the question what the origin of this high-rising billow in the chūban print might be. And this is where, I think, Kitao Masayoshi (北尾政美 1764-1824) comes in.

To understand how and why, we must remember that Hokusai was designing quite a number of both commercial and privately issued prints of landscapes in the Kyōwa and Bunka Periods (1801-1818), mostly in either the chūban or also the even smaller koban 小判 format. They were views of Edo, of Lake Biwa, the so-called Eight Views in Ōmi Province, Ōmi hakkei 「近江八景」, the Six Crystal Rivers, Mutamagawa 「六玉川」, and no less than seven series on the Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō Road, Tōkaidō gojūsantsugi 「東海道五十三次」. But then we should also realize that he had seen none of these places except for the locations in Edo. He, for example, first traveled the Tōkaidō Highway only in the Autumn of 1812. But there was a very good guide for travelling the Tōkaidō Highway, the Illustrated Famous Views Along the Tōkaidō Road, Tōkaidō meisho zue 『東海道名所図会』, a six-volumes guidebook for the journey from Kyoto to Edo by the great entrepreneur in this genre Akisato Ritō 秋里離嶌, with illustrations by several various artists, published in 1797. A large number of plates complement the descriptions of famous sites, the historical background of temples, as well as notes on local specialties and products.

It was this best-selling guidebook that enabled Hokusai to know of the shop of Uirō selling incense at Odawara, that Yui was famous for producing salt, Okitsu for sea products, and Fujieda for lots of fresh fish, Kakegawa for grass cloth made of arrowroot vines, shibori silk being a famous product of Narumi, Kuwana for its hamaguri shells, Tsuchiyama for its so-called sashigushi combs, and in the village of Umenoki, just before reaching Ishibe, there is the large and famous Wachūsan medicine shop, to cite just some examples from one such series dating from 1804.

Katsushika Hokusai: Women at Narumi making shibori silk, from a series of prints on the Tōkaidō Highway, 1804 (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, JIB13)

The last thirteen plates in the guidebook are the work of Kitao Masayoshi, one of the most productive illustrators of popular novels at the time, some of these already signed Keisai 蕙齋, the name he took then. One of these depicts the hero Nitta Yoshioki (新田義興 1331-1358) on horseback, being lifted by a strange ghostlike wave when he was about to cross the Tama River by Yaguchi 矢口 near Edo, on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1358. Understandably, he would not survive this strange event, causing his death at the young age of 28. His soul is now revered in the Nitta Myōjin Shrine 新田明神 at the village of Yaguchi. Though in all respects not related to either the Kōkan painting or Hokusai’s plate in the Threads of the Willow album, there cannot be any doubt that Hokusai knew this plate by Masayoshi, making it quite likely that this helped him develop first his chūban print of Oshiokuri Boats Navigating the Waves, and much later, in 1830, also his iconic print of the Wave Off Kanagawa.

Kitao Masayoshi: Nitta Yoshioki lifted by a huge wave, from Tōkaidō meisho zue, 1797.

Then the Wind making a Great Wave, as promised above. Hokusai’s initial plan to do a series of views of Mount Fuji dates from 1823. At the end of his Modern Patterns for Combs and Pipes, Imayō kushi kiseru no hinagata 『今様櫛煙管雛形』, that already features eight designs for the decoration of combs that include Mount Fuji, there is an announcement of a series of Eight Fujis, Fugaku hattai 「冨嶽八体」, that would represent ‘the wonders of nature, landscapes as they comply with the four seasons, in clear weather, rain, wind, snow, and in misty skies, that his brush will manifest’ shiki seiu fūsetsu muten no zōka ni shitagai keshiki no kotonaru wo hittan ni arawasu 四季晴雨風雪霧天の造化に随ひ景色の異るを筆端に著す. The publisher of this series of prints would be Nishimuraya Yohachi, indeed the publisher of the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji series. Just focusing on the first three conditions, could it be that the promised ‘clear weather, rain, and wind’ are the prints of South Wind and Clear Weather, Gaifū kaisei 凱風快晴, Shower Below the Summit, Sanka hakuu 山下白雨, and the wind … indeed making Under the Hollow of the Wave Off Kanagawa, Kanagawa oki no namiura , 神奈川沖波裏. I am also convinced that these three acknowledged masterpieces form part of the first instalment of Fuji prints, though some are recently convinced of a different order of the prints in the series being published.

Katsushika Hokusai: Imayō kushi kiseru hinagata, 1823. (Courtesy The Trustees of the British Museum, 1979,0305,0.432.1)

Interestingly, speaking of Hokusai and Masayoshi in a summary of who matters in the Kansei Period, the Bukō nenpyō 『武江年表』 [Tōyō Bunko, 118, p 18] records that ‘It is said that Hokusai is someone who just imitates and who starts nothing by himself. Well, after Keisai [the later name of Masayoshi] had drawn his Ryakugashiki 『略画式』[4 titles from 1795 to 1800], Hokusai made the Hokusai manga 『北斎漫画』[10 vols. from 1814 to 1819] and it is again the truth that it was the scheme of View of Edo 「江戸一覧図」 [1 large sheet by Masayoshi, 1803] that helped him [i.e. Hokusai] design his View of the Tōkaidō 「東海道一覧の図」 [1 large sheet, 1818].’ 語りて云ふ、北斎はとかく人の真似をなす、何でも己が初始めたることなしとへり。是は「略画式」を蕙齋が著はして後、北斎漫画をかき、又紹真が江戸一覧図を工夫せしかば、東海道一覧の図を錦絵にしたりしなどいへるなり。To some extent I can follow the idea, but I think it is more complicated, maybe for some other time.

Of Whales and Tengu Nails in the Siebold Collection

As we know from his account of the Court Journey from Nagasaki to Edo, Philipp Franz von Siebold 1796-1866, had a meeting with Takano Chōei 高野長英 1804-1850, at Shimonoseki. Chōei was a Rangaku scholar who had come to Nagasaki in X/1824 to study with Siebold. This meeting took place on February 26, 1826. On that occasion, Siebold is pleased to find that he completed his thesis on whales, and the next day, they even meet with the whaler from Hirado ‘to whom the aforementioned doctor Takano Chōei was largely obliged for his thesis on whales, and whom he brought along so that he could supply us with some more information from his wealth of experience’ (/…/ dem der obenerwähnte Arzt Takano Tsjōje die Abhandlung von den Walfischen gröfstenteils verdankt und den er in der Absicht mitgebracht hatte, um uns aus dem Schatze seiner Erfahrungen einige nähere Mitteilungen darüber zu machen [p. 123 in the 1897 edition of Nippon]). Most likely, Chōei met with this whaler when he was spending time at Hirado where he studied the Western books in the collection of Matsura Seizan 松浦青山 1760-1841.

The Sebikujira from Geishi 『鯨志』
(Courtesy: Leiden University Library Ser 1017)
The Sebikujira from the Shashin nagakujira no zu 『写真長鯨図』(Courtesy: Leiden University Library Ser 1016)

In a manuscript listing of the various theses that his students and friends supplied him with, titled Literarische Beiträge meiner Japanischen Freunde (Burg Brandenstein Archive Ve93), Siebold records two theses on whales. One is the ‘Treatise on the Whales Caught in the Sea of Kishū Province (紀州 or Kii no kuni 紀伊國). Translated from the Japanese by O. Kenkai (Oka Kenkai 岡研介 1799-1839)’ (Verhandeling over de Walvisschen in de Zee van het Landschap Kisju gevangen. Uit het Japansch door O. Kenkai vertaald), listed as number 8. Then there is ‘The Description of the Whale. Translated by Zooken (Ishii Sōken 石井宗謙 1796-1861) from Japanese into Dutch, 1827’ (De beschryving van de Warvisch. Door Zooken uit het jappansche met het hollandsche vertaalt, 1827), number 24. Coincidentally, this thesis in the Dutch translation, is now preserved in the Brandenstein family archives – where it landed some years ago via the Netherlands and the United States, probably having been stolen from the Japaninstitut at Berlin (No. 350 in their library catalogue) by some American soldier at the end of World War II. There is also a photographic copy in Tōyō Bunko 東洋文庫, as they photographed all the Siebold material that was on loan for an exhibition in Japan. Here, however, I am much indebted to Wilhelm Graf Adelmann of the Burg Brandenstein Archives who kindly supplied me with a scan of the manuscript.

When I recently spent some time more systematically studying the Siebold Collection at Leiden University Library, I found a manuscript titled Kaishu 『海鰌』(Ser 1015) that appears to be the Japanese original that Sōken translated. This is a quite surprising title for a treatise on whales, as Kaishu would translate as something like ‘Small Fish in the Seas.’ Would this then be the thesis that Takano Chōei handed to Siebold at Shimonoseki? As for its contents, both the Kaishu and De beschryving van de Warvisch have notes on thirteen kinds of whales, ranking these as good (上品), less (中品), or even undesirable (下品) for their bad taste, indeed the sort of information one might typically expect from a whaler at Hirado. Chōei’s informant proudly states on page two of the Kaishu in an introduction that is omitted by Sōken, ‘/…/ the provinces where they are most abundant are from Ise to Kii, but what the Gotō Islands in Hizen yield is the best /…/’ (此邦多有之有所在勢州及肥之五島取之以五島産爲最上), yes, these are the fishing grounds closest to Hirado. It is then interesting to note that Takano Chōei made use of such a reliable direct informant, whereas it would also have been quite logical to consult the Geishi 『鯨志』by Kajitoriya Jiemon 梶取屋次右衛門 of 1760, reprinted in 1794, in fact the only Japanese literary source mentioned in the introduction, and also represented in the Siebold Collection (Ser 1017). All the other literary sources cited for their mentioning ‘whales,’ kujira 鯨 or ch’ing in Chinese are quite ancient Chinese works, ranging from the third century Funan ibutsushi 『扶南異物志』to the Wakan sansai zue 『和漢三才図会』that was issued in a Japanese edition as recently as in 1715.

Probably the Zatōkujira from the Shashin nagakujira no zu 『写真長鯨図』
(Courtesy Leiden University Library Ser 1016)

In addition to the thirteen species of whales, the manuscript also provides us with a list of all the parts of the body that can be eaten. Anyway, to be sure, the Sebikujira 脊美鯨 (written as世比古矢剌 in Geishi) is best (上品), and more delicious than other whales (de smaak is zeer aangenaamer dan andere walvischen). Then comes the Kokujira 兒鯨 (Geishi 狐古矢剌), also the best (上品), tastes as the Sebikujira (ook beste soort /…/ de smaak is hetzelfde als die der zebikoedira); the Zatōkujira (Geishi 座頭鯨), also known as Biwakujira 琵琶鯨 as it resembles the biwa fruit, i.e. the humpback whale, literally ‘the blind man-whale,’ tastes less nice (中品) than the Sebikujira (de smaak is slechts dan zebikoedira); the Gotō kujira 伍□鯨 (Geishi 狐度宇鯨) also rates second of the second rank (中之中品), its taste is less nice than that of the Zatōkujira (ook tweede soort /…/ de smaak is slechter dan die van zatookoedira).

Now the real bad ones: Makkokujira 埋紫歌鰌魚 (Geishi 末子狐古矢剌), its meat is not good (下品), their piss is called anpera and is praised by the Dutch (het vlees is niet goed, hun pis wordt anpera genoemd en geprezen van hollander [actually: 其屎名阿年邉羅蠻人以貴重之世, their excrements are known as ‘anpera’ and considered precious by the Barbarians – most likely referring to ambergris (as Arlette Kouwenhoven pointed out to me)]); the Nakasukujira 奈華思鯨 (Geishi 那加思古矢剌), its meat doesn’t taste well (下品) and very little oil, thus a bad species (de smaak des vlees is niet goed en zeer weinig olie, daarom is slechts soort); the Notakujira □鎖鯨鯨 (not in Geishi), doesn’t taste well (下品), one can only get the oil; also a bad species (de smaak is niet goed /…/ men kan alleen van dit de olie krijgen; hij is ook slechts soort); the Sakamatakujira 素華埋佗 (Geishi 沙加末打鯨), its meat doesn’t taste well (下品) and a bad species (de smaak des vlees is niet goed, en slechts soort); the Tsuchikujira 土鯨 (not in Geishi), a bad type (下之下品); its meat is blueish and dark, the taste watery or slimy and like earth, that is why it is called tsuchikujira, or earth-whale (hij is slechts soort; zijn vlees is blaauw en donkere kleuren, de smaak waterachtig en slijmachtig, en naar de smaak des aard gelijk, dus dit walvisch noemt men tstikoedira); the Katsuokujira 鰹鯨 (Geishi 加子倭古矢剌), also a bad species (下品) and doesn’t taste well (hij is ook slechts soort /…/ de smaak is niet goed); the Akaharakujira 朱坊鯨 (not in Geishi), its meat cannot be eaten (下品) (die vlees kan men niet eeten).

This is the end of the whales, then comes the Iruka 海豚 or dolphin, which tastes salty and smells, but not poisonous, like the meat of the (?) nerve [can be used as medicine for various problems] and as the intestines can be eaten, these are well-praised, heart, liver, milt, stomach, bowels, blather (de smaak is zoutachtig en stinkende, niet vergift, als het vlees der siguuzenuw /…/ daar dit ingewanden eetbaar zijn, zo worden zij aangepreezen, hart, lever, milt, maag, darmen, pisblaas, die alles zijn zeer smaaklijker dan deze vlees); and then the Nami no uo 波魚 (?), one only gets the oil (krijgt men de olie).

Now let us skip the extensive list of parts of whales that can be eaten and move on to some other works on whales, as Siebold was apparently quite well-interested in these animals. In addition to the already mentioned Geishi, there is an album of paintings titled ‘Pictures of Long Whales Painted after Nature,’ Shashin nagakujira no zu 『写真長鯨図』, comprised of seven anonymous and pretty amateurish plates of which only the Sebikujira, the Zatōkujira and the Iruka are identified (Leiden University Library Ser 1016). The plate of the first was most likely directly copied after the illustration in Geishi, and this may also well be true for some others. More interesting is an album of four plates, each with six depictions of whales, plus a painting of whaling (National Museum of Ethnology, now Wereldmuseum Leiden, RV-1-4497b). The latter plate is obviously by an amateur, the others are anonymous, but undoubtedly not by Kawahara Keiga as the museum believes. Was Siebold’s interest in whales inspired by the centuries old Dutch tradition of whaling? Anyway, he later obviously used quite a bit of the information that he could find in Takano Chōei’s thesis in his Nippon, at least in the 1897 edition of the Court Journey, still under the date of 27 February.

Utagawa Kuniyoshi: Ushiwakamaru being taught the art of fencing by Tengu. Detail. (Courtesy The British Museum 1907,0531,0.623)
A Tengu nail found in 1789 (Courtesy Leiden University Library Ser 1032)

Now we move on to something totally different, the ‘Fossilized Nails of Tengu,’ another manuscript in the Siebold Collection preserved in the Leiden University Library (Ser 1032), titled ‘Tengu – Miscellaneous Thoughts on their Fossilized Nails,’ Tengu – Tsumeishi zakkō 『天狗爪石雑考』. This is again a treatise in Japanese that had been made available to Siebold in a Dutch translation by Kō Ryōsai 高良齋 1799-1846, one of Siebold’s most trusted pupils, titled Kort schets over een versteende Tand –- was in the Japaninstitut Berlin, present whereabouts unknown. But what is a ‘tengu’? Will. H. Edmunds calls Tengu ‘Heavenly Dogs’ in his Pointers and Clues to the Subjects of Chinese and Japanese Art, London 1934, specifies two kinds, the so-called ‘Konoha Tengu wich has a human face and form, but winged and with a very long nose; and the more bird-like Karasu Tengu or Crow Tengu, with a bird’s head and strong curved beak.’ For proof of their existence, we just have to believe the tradition that Sōjōbō 僧正坊, the King of the Tengu, decided to let his folk teach the art of fencing to the young Minamoto no Yoshitsune 源義経 1159-1189. And then there are also their fossilized nails, discussed in this manuscript that was given to Siebold by Kurimoto Zuiken 栗本瑞見 1756-1834, a doctor at the Tokugawa court, notably from his own library.

This is a text by Kiuchi Jūgyō 木内重暁著, better known as Kiuchi Sekitei 木内石亭 1725-1808, proof-corrected by Hozumi Tamotsu 穂積保校. Kiuchi had been interested in curious and rare stones from the age of eleven and Siebold, who owned a copy of his Unkonshi 『雲根志』, 3 vols. 1773, 1779 and 1801, cites from his work in Nippon, especially from his discussion of magatama 曲玉. Moreover, this is an almost comprehensive work on all kinds of stones, even including a note on the ‘fossilized Tengu nails,’ tengu no tsumeishi in part 3 of the second part (後編巻の三). In the manuscript on fossilized tengu nails, Kiuchi discusses quite a few findings of such nails in various provinces, such as at Kanazawa in Kaga Province (加賀州金沢) in XII/1787, or again in IX/1776, in the village of Sasakura in Neigōri in Etchū Province (越中州婦負郡笹倉村) in XI/1793, and so on. He often even gives the names of the finder and the measurements of the nails.

Two sides of a Tengu nail found in the Iwaikawa River in Iwaikawa, Mutsu Province (Courtesy Leiden University Library Ser 1032)
An illustration of various Tengu nails, probably copied after some Western book (Courtesy Leiden University Library Ser 1032)

From the various illustrations of these finds one really gets some idea of what these tengu nails might be, at least a specialist will, I guess – my initial suspicion, though I am an amateur, that they most look like shark teeth, was confirmed at the site of the Kiseki Museum of World Stones 奇石博物館. There they are identified as Carcharodon megalodon, the teeth of a shark measuring some twenty meters, living some 7.000.000 years ago. And I can only add that, anyway all the finding sites indicated by Sekitei are on the coast. Moreover, these illustrations really make the manuscript quite special since at least two of three known similar manuscripts have hardly any. One is the ‘Strange Tales of Fossilized Tengu Nails,’ Tengu no tsumeishi kidan 『天狗爪石奇談』, equally by Kiuchi Sekitei and again with a preface dated I/1796. It comes from the Shibayō 芝陽文庫 and Shirai Libraries 白井氏蔵書 and is now housed at the National Diet Library, Tokyo (国立国会図書館 [特 1-2043]). The nine sheets manuscript has the same introductory text and the account of all findings as the Siebold copy, but ends where this has the illustrations. The other is ‘My Humble Considerations on Fossilized Tengu Nails,’  Tengu no tsumeishi sekkō 『天狗爪石拙攷』by Kurimoto Zuiken, with a date of VIII/1818. This 60 sheets manuscript covers quite a range of different subjects and has, in spite of its title, only six pages of text that correspond with the addenda in the Siebold copy. In addition, it features one illustration of a jaw with seven teeth. It comes from the Aoki 青木印 and Fujin Collections 不忍文庫 and is presently preserved in the National Diet Library, Tokyo (ち 43-7). Alas, I did not (yet) get to see a third copy/version of this manuscript, the ‘Miscellaneous Thoughts on Fossilized Tengu Nails,’ Tengu no tsumeishi zakkō 『天狗爪石雑考』by Ōtsuki Bansui 大槻磐水, better known as Gentaku 玄沢 1757-1827, of which Keiō University in Tokyo would have a copy.

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 5: 1826-1865 — The End

Again, it is somewhat of a problem to find what the most appropriate next period would be to help getting a better insight in the development of the genre of prints of actors. In the end, I deciced to go for two periods, the first one from the year of Toyokuni’s death until 1842, when prints of actors were largely banned as part of the Tenpō Reforms, and the second covering the years when prints of actors were again in some way permitted until just before Meiji. The banning under the Tenpō Reforms, Tenpō no kaikaku 天保の改革, designed by Mizuno Tadakuni 水野忠邦 1794-1851 should start from V/1841, but was only effective from 1843, as the answer of the Tokugawa bakufu to counter a major economic crisis following a long period of economic flowering. This so-called Tenpō crisis or Tenpō no kikin 天保の飢饉 is a period when large parts of Japan suffered from a great famine, with thousands dying of starvation in the years 1836 and 1837 and with prices of especially rice and other food rising enormously. Although prints after kabuki performances continued to be made, they never feature the names of the actors and sometimes not even the roles they played. However, for the true regular visitors of the kabuki theatres, they must have been quite easily to identify.

Utagawa Kunisada: The actors Bandō Hikosaburō IV as Jirōbei, Onoe Tamizō II as Rokuzō, and Onoe Eisaburō III as the geisha Kashiku in the play Tenjiku Tokubei manri irifune, staged at the Naka theatre in VII/1841 (KN 6:433) Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

The main artists working in the first period are, of course, Utagawa Kunisada 歌川國貞 1786-1865 and Utagawa Kuniyoshi 歌川國芳1798-1861 who were among the early Toyokuni pupils, making their debut in prints of actors in 1811 and 1815 respectively, as well as Toyokuni II (二代豊國 act 1823-34), and the Kunisada pupils Sadahide (貞秀 from 1827), Sadakage (貞景 from 1828), and Sadafusa (貞房 also from 1828), all belonging to the monopolizing Utagawa tradition. They went on from where Toyokuni had brought the genre of actor prints and continued designing mostly diptych 大判二枚続 and triptych 大判三枚続 compositions. But what does the print production subdivided by months look like in the post-Toyokuni era?

MonthsWhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697
1760
tane urushie42% 9%   5%   29%563 99.5%
1742
1769
benizurie27%9%9% 5% 6%   35%854 100%
1764 1796                  Katsukawa Bunchō Sharaku17%6%6% 7% 9%6%  40%794 99.5%
1794
1825
Utagawa Toyokuni14% 18%5%10% 13%6%12% 13%1284 98.5%
1826
1842
Utagawa artists11% 25.5%5%10.5% 11%13.511% 7%614 98.5%
Utagawa Kunisada: The actors Onoe Baikō III as the ghost of Kasane and Sawamura Tosshō as Kinoshitagawa Yoemon after a performance at the Ichimura theatre in II/1836 (KN 6:324) Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

The most dramatic differences from the earlier period are to be seen in the third month, already taking the first position in the previous period with 18%, but now even increasing to a quarter of all actor prints. As for the programming in the third month, we mostly see plays on flowering cherries, such as Senbonzakura 千本櫻 in various variations, as well as performances of the play Sanmon gosan no kiri 樓門五三桐 by Namiki Gohei 初代並木五瓶 of 1778. The eighth month with 6% now more than doubles to 13.5%. And the eleventh month – was 13% — makes a dramatic fall to a mere 7%. The other months are quite stable with more or less similar percentages. Consequently, the first place is for the third month, the second place for the eighth month, the third place for the first, seventh and ninth months, closely followed by the fifth month, and the fifth and sixth positions are for the eleventh and fourth months. And the first and eleventh months together, being still good for 27% in the period from 1794 to 1825, now only make it to 18%. Again, there are only three months reaching a percentage below the 5% limit.

Mizuno Tadakuni, the architect of the Tenpō Reforms is ousted from power already by the ninth month of 1843, but it would take until about 1846/47 that artists again start designing prints after kabuki performances, just indicating the roles but not the names of the actors. Kunisada and Kuniyoshi are still the major artists working in this theme, Kunisada until his death in 1865, Kuniyoshi gradually giving up walking all the way from his home at Genyadana Sumiyoshichō to the theatres from about 1852 and certainly after suffering a stroke in the autumn of 1855 from which he only recovers slowly. Otherwise, Kuniyoshi’s pupils Yoshitora (芳虎 from 1847), Yoshifuji (芳藤 from 1850), Yoshitsuya (芳艶 from 1859), Yoshitoshi (芳年 from 1860), and Yoshiiku (芳幾 from 1861) are active in the genre, as well as Kunimaro (國麿 from 1848), Kuniteru (國輝 from 1851), Kunisada II (二代國貞 from 1853), Kuniaki (國明 from 1861), Kunihisa II (二代國久 from 1861), and above all, the most innovative talent Utagawa Kunichika (國周 from 1862 but active well into the 1890s).

MonthsWhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697
1760
tane
urushie
42%9%5%29%563 99.5%
1742
1769
Benizurie27%9%9%5%6%35%854 100%
1764 1796                  Katsukawa Bunchō Sharaku17%6%6%7%9%6%40%794 99.5%
1794
1825
Utagawa Toyokuni14%18%5%10%13%6%12%13%1284 98.5%
1826 1842Utagawa11%25.5%5%10.5%11%13.511%7%614 98.5%
1843 1865Utagawa11%9%21%6%10%12%10%11.5%1363 99.5%

What a surprise, the eleventh month is now completely out, not even making it to the 5% that is, and the second month is back in! Otherwise, we are looking at a largely similar image as in the years 1826-42, and, if we just close our eyes to some minor changes (as well as the surprising drama with the kaomise performances of the eleventh month), the basis for this pattern was already laid by Toyokuni from the 1790s as just one aspect of his great legacy, maybe more about that some next time – though he couldn’t possibly foresee that the eleventh month would have so little meaning from around the mid-nineteenth century. In case you might wonder, checking my calculation, about the coverage of 94.5% for the years 1826-42 or even only 90.5% for the years 1843-65, I did not cheat, as you will see when we also include the figures for the months that don’t make it to the limit of 5% that we set:

Utagawa Kunisada: The actors Onoe Kikujirō II as Konoshitagawa Kōsuke and Ōtani Tomomatsu as Sukeshirō after a performance at the Morita theatre in VII/1856 (KN 7:33) Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
MonthsWhoIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1826 1842Utagawa11% 11%  2%25.5% 25.5%5% 5%10.5% 10.5%  1%11% 11%13.5% 13.5%11% 11%  1%7% 7%94.5% 98.5%
1843 1865Utagawa11% 11%9% 9%21% 21%6% 6%10% 10%  2%12% 12%10% 10%11.5% 11.5%  3%  4%90.5% 99.5%

Here I will have to stop, as there are so far, to my knowledge at least, no sufficiently reliable figures for the post-1865 period, just hoping that this series of articles may have told you something you didn’t know about prints of actors, sugatae 姿繪, as these were then called.

Utagawa Kunisada: The actors Ichikawa Ebizō V as Akaboshi Tarō, Onoe Kikugorō IV as Usugumohime, and Kawarazaki Gonjūrō as Mitsunari, after a performance at the Ichimura theatre in X/1858 (KN 7:63) Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

As an aside, I may add that I recently attended a conference about Japanese prints where one of the speakers cited a kabuki play titled ‘so-and-so ukiyoe’ which came as a shock to me as I was pretty sure that the word ‘pictures of the Floating World,’ ukiyoe 浮世繪, or 浮世絵 if you like, was not being used in the Edo period (much like, as I pointed out in the beginning of this series of articles, the words yakushae and bijinga). There is quite some ‘brocade prints’ nishikie 錦繪 and even ‘pictures from life’ utsushie 冩繪 in titles of kabuki plays, but no ukiyoe, I was pretty sure. Indeed, checking Kabuki nenpyō 5:456, for VIII/1810, there is the play Kaketatematsuru iro no ukiyo zuga 奉掛色浮世圖畫 by Tomimoto Buzen II 二代目富本豊前 1754-1822 (well-known from his portrayal in a print by Rekisentei Eiri 礫川亭栄里), that is Beginning to Show Respect for the Colours of Paintings of the Floating World – ‘ukiyo zuga,’ not ‘ukiyoe!’ This also reminds me of a common misreading of a Kuniyoshi series title of prints, mostly rendered as Ukiyo-e Comparisons of the Cloudy Chapters of Genji, Genji kumo ukiyo-e awase 源氏雲浮世画合, whereas Kuniyoshi intended Genji kumo ukiyo e-awase, ‘A Picture (or Pictorial) Comparison (e-awase 画合) of Genji in the Clouds (Genji kumo 源氏雲) [on the one hand] and the Floating World (ukiyo 浮世) [on the other],’ certainly no ‘comparisons with ukiyoe prints.’

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 4: 1794-1825

In the previous part we witnessed the early development of full colour printing, most likely a private business to begin with, as well as the standardization of print formats by the upcoming commercial publishers – resulting in a standardization of both printing blocks and paper sheets – so as to make these prints at last into a viable commercial business. Essentially this also meant finding cheaper and simpler kinds of paper that wouldn’t require so much dampness as the luxurious soft and thick hōsho paper from Echizen Province, Echizenbōsho 越前奉書, so as to more easily absorb the pigments, as well as enabling a much more efficient printing process as the printed sheets would also dry more quickly.

Utagawa Toyokuni: The actor Nakamura Nakazō II as Matsuōmaru, after a performance at the Miyako Theatre, VII/1796 (KN 5:216). Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (JP1004)

The period of 1794 to 1825 for this instalment may seem to be chosen somewhat haphazardly. Yet it corresponds exactly with the period when Utagawa Toyokuni 1769-1825 歌川豊國 was active in the genre of prints of actors, also including the work of his early pupils, such as Kunimasa 國政, Kunihisa 國久, Kuninaga 國長, and many others. We should also realize that Toyokuni was one of only two artists who managed to survive and overcome the changes in the world of prints in the 1790s, adapting without any problem to what a new audience expected. Thanks to both the flowering economy and the circumstance that prints could now be offered at much more modest prices as a result of the much more efficient production process – as we saw above – the commercial publishers managed to address a much wider audience. And Toyokuni understood very well that he was then catering to an audience that was very different from the kabuki aficionados for whom the Katsukawa 勝川 had worked from 1764 and he himself as well from 1794. From 1798 onwards, it again became customary to inscribe the names of the actors and the roles they played on the print – as had been the practice in the period of urushie 漆絵 and benizurie 紅摺絵 prints – thus assisting the many buyers who had maybe not even seen the play, or didn’t really know the plot, or even wouldn’t be able to identify the actor from his crest – indeed, a very very different audience from the members of the fan clubs of actors who bought the prints made by the Katsukawa artists. (The other artist who managed to survive the change of the audience from the late 18th century into the 19th century was Hokusai 北斎, who always kept reinventing himself and addressing new audiences. Kiyonaga 清長 was sort of happily retired, and Utamaro 歌麿 failed to adapt and simply had to give up printmaking, and Eishi 栄之, being of samurai descent, would focus on painting rather than designing popular prints.)

Utagawa Toyokuni: The actor Sawamura Sōjūrō III in the role of Ōkishi Kurando, V/1794 at the Miyakoza. From the series Yakusha butai no sugatae. Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York JP 1531

We know of a Toyokuni print portraying the actor Nakamura Nakazō as Ishikawa Goemon 中村仲蔵の石川五右衛門 after a performance in XI/1788 (listed in Fujisawa Akane, Utagawaha no ukiyoe to Edo shuppankai. Tokyo: Bensei shuppan, 2001, 322 [藤澤茜『歌川派の浮世絵と江戸出版界』東京:勉誠出版2001] and KN 5:69), but his real debut as a designer of actor prints was his series of Portraits of Actors on Stage, Yakusha butai no sugatae 役者舞台之姿繪 – you see, sugatae 姿繪, not yakushae 役者絵 — issued from 1794 by Izumiya Ichibei 和泉屋市兵衛, 52 designs known and an immediate success. Toyokuni’s first four prints in the series, one after a performance in the first month of 1794, two after a performance in the second month, and one after a performance in the third month, could well have been the talk of the town as they were released. And, as Roger Keyes suggested, this might have triggered Tsutaya Jūsaburō 蔦屋重三郎 to come with his reaction, in the form of his embracing the totally unknown artist going by the name of Sharaku 冩楽. Anyway, although we weren’t around then, it is certainly not impossible. On the other hand, it is quite obvious that this series of prints inspired Katsukawa Shunei 勝川春英 to design nineteen full length portrayals of actors against a soft grey ground after performances of the Chūshingura 忠臣蔵 drama at the Miyako Theatre 都座 in the fourth month of 1795 (KN 5:192, also see The actor’s image, 132).

As for the formats of Toyokuni’s prints when he was obliged to cater to the new audience of print buyers, there is a number of hosoban 細判 designs in the late 1790s and the early 1800s, but it is even more interesting to see a number of ōban diptych 大判二枚続 compositions from 1804, and a first ōban triptych 大判三枚続 in 1808. And this was only the beginning: from about 1815, the majority of Toyokuni’s prints of actors are ōban diptych and triptych compositions, and from the 1820s single prints are definitely a minority — this on the basis of Fujisawa Akane who records 810 prints of actors by Toyokuni and many more by other members of the Utagawa tradition. This also reflects the economic flowering of the Kasei 化政 period, as the Bunka-Bunsei Period (1804-30) is also known.

What we also see is that most of these diptychs and triptychs and occasional tetraptychs and pentaptych composition are largely preserved complete: the print buying audience was no longer comprised of members of the fan clubs who just wanted that one sheet where his or her favourite actor was portrayed. And probably the group of commercial publishers that then controlled the market wouldn’t have allowed such, now that the price of a complete triptych was probably less than one sheet of any Katsukawa polyptych at the time. Let’s now have a look whether the first and following positions are still similar to what we saw with the Katsukawa.

MonthsWhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697 1760tane urushie42% 9%   5%   29%563 99.5%
1742 1769benizurie27%9%9% 5% 6%   35%854 100%
1764 1796                         Katsukawa Bunchō Sharaku17%6%6% 7% 9%6%  40%794 99.5%
1794 1825Utagawa Toyokuni and pupils14% 18%5%10% 13%6%12% 13%1284 98.5%
Utagawa Toyokuni: The actors Ichikawa Komazō II as Akaneya Hanshichi and Nakayama Tomisaburō as Minoya Sankatsu, III/1798 at the Nakamuraza (KN 5:250). Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York JP1387

No, this is now a very different story. What happened? First, second, third, and fourth positions were then taken by the months XI, I, VII, V, and II/III/VIII together, and now, in the years from 1794-1825, we are looking at III, I, VII/XI, IX, V, VIII and IV instead. New are IV with 5% and IX with 12%. So the prominent position of the first and eleventh months that took 71, 62, and 57% of the annual production respectively, is down well below the 50% mark, now accounting for a mere 27%. The relative popularity of the second month in the two previous periods was apparently to be short-lived. But in this period there are only three months, the second, sixth, and tenth, that fail to reach the 5% limit. Moreover, with no real difference between the 14 and 13% for the first and eleventh months, we cannot any longer speak of some clear preference.

Utagawa Toyokuni: The actor Ichikawa Komazō III as Kameō and Iwai Kumesaburō as Oyasu in a performance at the Nakamura Theatre in III/1800 (KN 5:280) Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York JP1119

Anyway, this means that prints of actors are from now really a commodity for all seasons. And this quite an accomplishment, realized in a period of some three decades – of admittedly a great economic prospering – for which both Toyokuni and the commercial publishers deserve all the credit. Toyokuni also quite generously gave his pupils a fair chance to make their way in the field, Kunimasa 國政 from 1795, by his contemporaries jokingly said to be rather the teacher than the pupil of Toyokuni, Kunihisa 國久 from 1804, Kuninaga 國長 from 1804, Kuniyasu 國安 from 1808, Kuninao 國直 from 1810, Kunisada 國貞, probably his greatest student and the most successful artists of the nineteenth century, from 1811 (represented by 265 prints of actors in this period), Kuniyoshi 國芳 from 1815, Kunikane 國兼 from 1823, and, always somewhat mysteriously, Toyokuni II 二代豊國 only from 1823, two years before Toyokuni’s death.

Coming back to my earlier remarks on the formats of prints of actors in this period, more specifically the development of an increasing number of diptych and triptych compositions, these are quite different from what we saw with the Katsukawa artists in the latter decades of the eighteenth century. Rather than representing actors on stage against a typical theatre décor, the actors in Toyokuni’s prints are more and more portrayed in some imaginary scenery rather in tune with the plot of the play, giving rise to often quite dramatic scenes that naturally appealed to the audience of the time, but could never be realized just using the common décor and stage props. This will undoubtedly have contributed considerably to the popularity of these prints. But we should also realize that we are here far from ‘actor prints,’ certainly when you would like to call them yakushae, these are in fact ‘kabuki prints,’ prints after kabuki performances in the theatres of Edo. Indeed, for true prints of actors, one would, interestingly, have to go to the Kamigata where this genre of prints survived easily until about 1830.

Anyway, Toyokuni also ensured that the field of prints of actors would from his days belong to the Utagawa tradition, and to the Utagawa tradition alone, Utagawa Kunichika 國周 probably being the last and certainly a most gifted and innovative artist. But how exactly they fared, we’ll see in the next part.

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 3B: still the years 1764-1796

With the exception of a small number of prints dating from around 1770, and then again from about 1790, most prints of both Bunchō and the Katsukawa do not feature any marks of publishers. Would this suggest that most of these prints were in fact somewhat like private publications, not available through commercial publishers, and rather directly distributed by the fan clubs of the kabuki actors? This might well have been a common practice in the early years of nishikie colour prints. As for Bunchō (see the previous issue, Part 3A for the reference), we can only identify some 52 designs out of a total of 395 being issued with some publisher’s mark, dating from 1769 (7 prints), 1770 (13), 1771 (6), 1772 (5), and 1773 (1). This is also what we see with Harunobu’s prints, where we can only find some 101 prints with a publisher’s mark out of a total of 843 known prints (mostly in his prints in the mizue 水絵 and benizuri printing technique, and only 11 among his 720 nishikie colour prints), whereas, by decree, publishers’ marks were obligatory from XI/1720 for both prints and books issued commercially. It is then tempting to conclude that most prints in the new technique, at least in the initial years, were not distributed commercially, but rather among members of private clubs, such as people around the hatamoto Ōkubo Tadanobu aka Kyosen 1722-1777, 旗本大久保忠舒巨川 in the case of Harunobu, and members of fan clubs of kabuki actors in the cases of Bunchō and Shunshō and his Katsukawa-workshop colleagues. It is probably also no coincidence that we begin to see the first colour printed books issued by commercial publishers around the same time, from 1770.

But maybe we should also have a look at the days of benizurie and see which role commercial publishers were playing then. It then appears that only 11.5% of benizurie, that is 103 out of a total of 1205 prints, was issued without any mark of a publisher. This might well confirm that the absence of publishers’ marks on most early nishikie indicates that we are, indeed, looking at some kind of private publication, at least some print that was being distributed privately. On the other hand, how exactly this worked is difficult to say. There must have been someone acting as a producer, who organized the cutting of the blocks, provided the paper needed, and eventually oversaw the printing, as we also see this with surimono prints, e.g. Kubo Shunman 窪俊満 in Edo and Tani Seikō 谷清好 in Osaka. Most likely these were established publishers who should well be able to handle all this, but couldn’t act as their publisher as it were the clubs who commissioned these and were paying the costs and were consequently in charge of the distribution as well. Thus, these prints were made by subscription, like, for example, upon an announcement that Katsukawa Shunkō would make a triptych composition after this and this play that was just staged yesterday at this and this theatre?

According to Arihara Kogan 1829-1922 在原古玩, Harunobu’s chūban prints cost 160 mon 文 at the time, whereas prints by other artists in the hosoban format cost 12 mon and ōban prints 24 mon (cited after Tanabe Masako 田辺昌子 in the Harunobu exhibition catalogue, Chiba City Museum of Art, 2002, 275 and 307). This may seem interesting, but on the other hand, it is also a little puzzling. How could one chūban print by Harunobu cost the equivalent of more than six and a half ōban prints by any other artist – and I always learned that format is a factor, and six and a half ōban prints equal thirteen chūban sheets, that is the printing blocks, the cutting of the line and colour blocks, and the printers working a number of days, and the paper also makes for a good part of the price, as do the pigments… It is also not very clear what exactly the source of Arihara’s statements is (though I must still try to locate a copy of his article). So I prefer to forget about this, it simply makes no sense (to me, at least).

Assuming that also the hosoban and ōban prints are full colour nishikie, we must realize that from 1772 a new set of standard formats of paper was introduced, as a necessary standardization that would enable the badly needed commercial production of colour prints, yes, indeed, commercial distribution, no longer just catering to only private subscribers. As a consequence, the traditional ōbirobōsho 大広奉書 sheet measuring 44 x 58 cms and yielding a chūban sheet of 290 x 220 mms, as we can find in the Art Institute of Chicago’s circa 1766 Zashiki hakkei 座敷八景 series of 289 x 218 mms, was replaced by ōbōsho 大奉書 sheets measuring 39 x 53 cms and yielding a chūban sheet of 265 x 195 mms that we find in Bunchō’s post 1772 chūban designs, and most other chūban designs, for that matter. And from then, a standard ōban print measures 390 x 265 mms. And the benizurie hosoban measuring 330 x 153, as one third of a Mino sheet of 330 x 460 would from then measure 330 x 156, exactly the third of a kobōsho sheet 小奉書, which, alas, hardly helps us date these hosoban prints on the basis of their measurements. Once this standardization is a fact, print production is gradually getting in the hands of commercial publishers, as we can see in the works of Isoda Koryūsai, Torii Kiyonaga, and Kitagawa Utamaro. And towards the late 1780s, when cultural life in Edo is more and more under close scrutiny of the government, leading to the Kansei Reforms concerning publishing of V/1790, even the Katsukawa artists have to give up their private business of exclusive catering to the kabuki fan clubs. From then, we only see privately distributed prints in the form of picture calenders, egoyomi 絵暦, mostly in the 1780s and 1790s, and kyōka surimono 狂歌摺物 from the 1790s on.

Katsukawa Shunei: The actor Bandō Hikosaburō III in the role of Sugawara no Michizane, probably V/1799, ōban format, publisher Uemura Yohei, KN 5:270 (Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, JP2824)

The Katsukawa artists, as well as Bunchō and Sharaku, also worked in other formats than just hosoban. Both Bunchō and Shunshō, Shunkō 春好 act 1772-99 (?) and Shunei 春英 act 1783-1808 (?) designed quite a few works in the chūban format, and as the aiban 330 x 235 mm format came into use, the Katsukawa artists also used this format quite regularly as an intermediate format in between the ōban and chūban sheets. Shunshō’s use of the ōban format probably only dates from the early 1780s, in a series of prints portraying actors back-stage and a number of prints of sumō wrestlers. Moreover, as is well-known, Sharaku made his first appearance in the world of prints with a group of no less than 28 ōban prints with a mica ground portraying actors after performances in the fifth month of 1794, a feat unmatched by anyone else either before or after him. These so-called ōkubie 大首絵 or ‘large head’ portraits were probably an innovation that must be attributed to Katsukawa Shunkō, as we can learn from the comments in Kabuki nenpyō in the first month of 1789, stating that ‘for the fame of Tamejūrō, the kyōka poetry clubs of Edo had Katsukawa Shunkō make portraits of Tosshi [Sawamura Sōjūrō III], Okuyama [Asao Tamejūrō], Rokō [Segawa Kikunojō III], Tojaku [Iwai Hanshirō IV], and Mimasu [Ichikawa Danjūrō V], and distributed 500 of these,’ privately that is 為十郎大評判にて江戸狂歌連中より訥子奥山路考杜若三升五人の似顔を勝川春好に描かせ摺物五百枚を贈る (KN 5:81). And may we then conclude that an edition of 500 was really exceptional and that maybe something like 300 or 350 was more like common practice? Or could it be, as my friend and loyal reader Paul Belien suggested, that each of the designs was printed in an edition of one hundred and we thus get to the figure of five hundred for the five prints. Indeed, raising the question again how costly these prints were. And, of course, these ōban prints cost much more than a standard hosoban sheet. Still, the designers, block-cutters and printers all had to be paid, plus the printing blocks, the paper and the pigments, so there must have been a break even point somewhere. Anyway, I have never believed that skipping one bowl of noodles would allow one to buy another woodblock print fairy-tale.

Katsukawa Shunshō: The actors Sawamura Sōjūrō to the right, and Nakayama Kojūrō VI, XI/1785 KN 5:10 (Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, JP171)

But let us now again have a look at the prints of actors in role designed by Buncho, the Katsukawa workshop, and Sharaku:

 WhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697 1760tane urushie42% 9%   5%   29%563 99.5%
1742 1769benizurie27%9%9% 5% 6%   35%854 100%
1764 1796                         Katsukawa Bunchō Sharaku17%6%6% 7% 9%6%  40%794 99.5%
Katsukawa Shunei: The actor Ichikawa Monnosuke II in the role of Sukeroku, IV/1791, publisher Harimaya Shinshichi, KN 5:115 (Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, JP2707)

As we already saw in Part 3A, the print buying audience keeps losing interest in prints after the New Year performances. Could it be that New Year’s egoyomi and surimono and the new novels of various kinds released in the first month were attracting more attention and that this made that prints after the New Year performances now make up for only 17% of the annual production, versus 40% for prints after the kaomise 顔見 performances marking the opening of the kabuki season. The interest for prints after the second and third months drops, the fifth month is on the rise, and new is prints after performances in the eighth month. In summary, the buying public is still moving, or is it the commercial publishers who cause these shifts, trying to reach a wider audience than just members of the fan clubs of specific actors?

Otherwise, looking a bit around at other developments, it is quite remarkable that most Katsukawa artists hardly lent themselves to illustrations of popular novels, with the exception of Shunjō (春常 13 in the years 1778-92), Shunrō 春郎, the later Hokusai (34 novels in the years 1780-97), and Shunei (33 in the years 1782-94). Shunshō, the head of the atelier, made the illustrations to only six popular novels and designed 17 picture books and 19 albums of erotic content, indeed making him an artist of the ‘old’ tradition. Otherwise he seems to have been in very strict control, only Shunchō 勝川春潮, who almost did no prints of actors, was allowed to do the illustrations of seven popular novels, in addition to making three picture books and 14 erotic works in the years 1783-98.

The actor Ichikawa Danjūrō V in the role of Kudō Suketsune, c.1800, a role he played every first month in the years 1778-1781 (Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, JP3058)

The Katsukawa tradition, and certainly the branch devoted to the theatrical world, died out soon after the decease of Katsukawa Shunshō in Kansei 4, eighth day of the twelfth month 寛政四年十二月八日, that is 19/1/1793. His favourite pupil Shunkō suffered from a stroke that paralyzed his right arm in 1791 and stopped designing prints, after some training concentrating on painting instead. And his second choice, Shunei, also gave up soon as they lost their traditional audience to the upcoming Utagawa tradition of prints of actors, led by Utagawa Toyokuni 歌川豊國 act 1787-1825 and Utagawa Kunimasa 歌川國政 act 1795-1804, the subject of the next instalment. And, indeed, why not Shunrō, whom Shunshō always put in a far corner of his atelier, just allowing him to make the cheapest possible actor prints so that the Katsukawa atelier would also cater to a different audience and have some extra income – the later Hokusai I mean, who then left the Katsukawa workshop to establish a fully independent tradition by himself, but not in the world of actors.

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 3A: 1764-1796

In Part 2 of this Brief History, there was already mention of some major innovation, the development of full colour printing from 1764, giving rise to what we know as nishikie 錦絵, justly advertised as ‘Brocade Prints from the Eastern Capital,’ Edo that is, Azuma nishikie 東錦絵. These would gradually supersede the traditional benizurie 紅摺絵 that had been predominant in printmaking for the two preceding decades.

In the literature, the earliest nishikie are generally associated with Suzuki Harunobu 鈴木春信 act 1760-70. This is only based on the circumstance that, and don’t ask me why, Harunobu got involved in the sudden temporary craze of distributing picture calenders, egoyomi 絵暦, among one’s friends for the New Year, starting in Meiwa 2 明和二年, 1765, and already much less in Meiwa 3 明和三年, 1766. Indeed, why not Torii Kiyomitsu 鳥居清満 act 1745-77 or Torii Kiyotsune 鳥居清経 act 1757-78, both with a much more impressive record of production? Or even more to be expected, Ishikawa Toyonobu 石川豊信 act 1746-79. Anyway, we see the first use of the new printing technique with Katsukawa Shunshō 勝川春章 act 1764-93 as well as with some amateur designers of prints. And as for prints of actors, Harunobu wisely soon left the field to Shunshō.

The actor Ichikawa Yaozō II as Soga no Gorō in a performance at the Nakamura Theatre in II/1770 (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)
The actor Ichikawa Monnosuke II as Soga no Jūrō in a performance at the Kiri Theatre in I/1785, KN 5:4 (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

A major innovation of Shunshō and his Katsukawa workshop was that he established close connections with the various fan clubs of kabuki actors. So they soon started designing narrow upright hosoban prints in triptych or pentaptych compositions, catering to the various fan clubs. However, as most kabuki aficionados apparently only bought the sheets portraying their favourite actor, it is now almost impossible to find such complete triptych or pentaptych compositions in either private or public collections. Checking the ukiyo-e.org site, for example, I only found among a total of 3675 hosoban sheets one hexaptych composition, seven pentaptych compositions and eight tetraptych compositions, and 74 triptych compositions (6%) as well as 175 diptychs (9.5%) – where we may sometimes also ask ourselves if these were complete compositions or just parts of triptychs and pentaptychs. Anyway, this means that we are left with almost 85% of single prints that were mostly picked by the kabuki fans out of their original multi-sheet compositions.

We must also realize that another major innovation of the Katsukawa artists consisted in rendering a direct and vivid interaction between the actors in triptych and pentaptych compositions, an aspect that alas goes forlorn when these are reduced to incomplete single print images. Of course, there is also a number of prints that was conceived as single sheet compositions from the beginning, but they really seem to have been a minority. One easy way to identify prints from multi-sheet compositions is when there is a simple décor or stage setting running to both the right and left edges — as in all pics seen here, and all by Katsukawa Shunshō — that we can almost always see from about 1770, although its absence is still no guarantee that we are looking at a single print composition. Anyway, we can well conclude that the kabuki lovers in these days demanded much more than just one or two prints after performances in the first and the eleventh months, as had largely been the case in the preceding decades. Indeed, from the 1760s we are gradually getting closer to the Floating World 浮世 where kabuki 歌舞伎 thrives, as do guides to the Yoshiwara 新吉原 pleasure quarter, illustrated popular novels 草双紙, collections of kyōka 狂歌集 poems, and the print culture.

Kabuki Actor Ichikawa Danjūrō V as Sakata Kintoki in the Play Raikō’s Four Intrepid Retainers in the Costume of the Night Watch (Shitennō tonoi no kisewata), Katsukawa Shunshō 勝川春章 (Japanese, 1726–1792), Woodblock print (nishiki-e); ink and color on paper, Japan
The actor Ichikawa Danjūrō V as Sakata Kintoki in a performance at the Nakamura Theatre in XI/1781, KN 4: 455 (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

My original count was based on The actor’s image. Print makers of the Katsukawa school. The Art Institute of Chicago, 1994. But then I realized that it would be good to also include both Ippitsusai Bunchō 一筆斎文調 act 1764-79 and Tōshūsai Sharaku 東洲斎写楽 act 1794-95 in the count. Bunchō is a direct contemporary of Shunshō and worked for a quite similar audience, and both collaborated on the Picture Book of Fans on the Stage, Ehon butai ōgi 『繪本舞台扇』of I/1770, probably the first colour-printed book, published by Kariganeya Ihei 雁金屋伊兵衛. As for Sharaku, his production of prints, certainly his compositions in the hosoban format, is much more similar to the Katsukawa tradition than to the Utagawa tradition, the focus of Part 4. That this was quite correct can be inferred from the fact that percentagewise, this hardly affected the outcome based on my earlier count of the Katsukawa artists alone, just a difference of one or two percents in only a few cases. For Bunchō, I used ‘Ippitsusai Bunchō hanga sakuhin mokuroku’ by Hayashi Kyōhei 林京平、一筆斎文調版画作品目録 in the Ukiyoe shūka volumes 浮世絵衆花, and for Sharaku the 2011 Tokyo National Museum exhibition catalogue 東博展.

WhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697 1760tane urushie42% 9%   5%   29%563 99.5%
1742 1769benizurie27%9%9% 5% 6%   35%854 100%
1764 1796                         Katsukawa Bunchō & Sharaku17%6%6% 7% 9%6%  40%794 99.5%
The actor Ichikawa Yaozō II as Akeba no Chōkichi, in reality Soga no Gorō in a performance at the Nakamura Theatre in I/1770, KN 4:126. The writing top left is MS by a contemporary collector (Courtesy The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York)

A real problem with most prints by Katsukawa artists, and also those by Bunchō and certainly the hosoban format compositions by Sharaku, is that these were destined at an audience of connoisseurs, who knew the plays, who knew the actors, who were mostly associated with an actor’s fanclub, so it was absolutely superfluous to print the names of the actors and their roles, as had been the custom until then. Consequently, it can be quite a problem for us nowadays to associate these prints with specific performances and date them accordingly. We are then lucky to have at least quite a few programmes illustrating the highlights of the plays and details of the performances to be found in the Annual Records of the Kabuki Theatres, Kabuki nenpyō 『歌舞伎年表』. And then there is a small number of prints that were inscribed by a contemporary collector, giving the names of the actor, the role, the theatre, and the date of the performance – as we can see in the figure to the right.

As in the preceding years, when benizuri prints were predominant, prints after performances in the eleventh and first months still take first and second positions, though the difference, percentagewise, is much larger: initially they were 42 and 29%, then 27 and 35%, now they are 17 and 40%, so the first month performances are quite dramatically decreasing. And there are third, fourth, and fifth positions for the seventh month (9%), the fifth month (7%), the second, third and eighth months (each 6%), leaving only the fourth, sixth, ninth, and tenth months out. In summary, we see in the period from 1697 to 1760 that 71% of the prints are after performances in the first and eleventh months, and only 29% such prints are bought by those wanting more than just one or two prints. And in the years when benizurie 紅摺絵 were predominant, 62% were prints after performances in the first and eleventh months, and some 38% were prints after performances in other months, already quite an increase. And in the years of the Katsukawa domination until the end of the eighteenth century, 57% were prints after performances in the eleventh and first months, leaving 43% for prints after performances in the other nine months. This makes it all the more interesting to find out whether something like a stable situation had now been reached, so that designing prints of actors would no longer be a strictly seasonal job for most – we’ll see it soon.

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Intermezzo: 1764-1796

In Part 2 of my Brief History of Prints of Actors, I raised the question ‘how designers of prints in much of the eighteenth century could possibly make a living,’ as well as suggesting that ‘it is only from the 1760s that Torii Kiyomitsu 鳥居清満 and Torii Kiyotsune 鳥居清経 can finally make a living by illustrating 71 and 200 popular novels respectively, in addition to the prints they designed, a totally new development of the time.’ As this may raise some eyebrows or even the question whether this is really correct, it may be good to have a closer look at the development of popular fiction at the time.

Going by Yamazaki Fumoto’s Nihon shōsetsu nenpyō 山崎麓『日本小説年表附総目録』(近代日本文學大系25) of 1929  – certainly not an infallible source, but absolutely sufficient for an overview and an adequate understanding of the developments – we find for the 1750s a total of 219 various kinds of popular fiction that go by the overall term of kusazōshi 草双紙, the largest portion, some 41%, being of the then popular kurohon 黒本 genre. For only 26 of these 219 titles the name of the illustrator is indicated. When you might consider this surprising, you’ll probably be even more amazed to learn that an author is only mentioned for 79 of these publications, or 36% – and later on, we’ll see why. Indeed, the 1750s and especially the 1760s is the period when names of writers are only just beginning to be mentioned, as also the late Nakano Mitsutoshi 中野三敏 (1935-2019) correctly remarked – but please forgive, I don’t remember where exactly. In the 1760s kurohon it would mostly be Kansuidō Jōa 観水堂丈阿 1686-1770 act 1752-70 whose name is mostly given, probably as he was then the most popular author.

And what about the Kyōhō Proclamation 享保布令 of XI/1722, you may wonder, as this required all publications to clearly indicate the real names of both author and publisher. Absolutely correct, but the common practice in Japan is that it prefers to have rules just in case there is some good occasion or need to apply them. And that moment would eventually and even most incidentally come with the Kansei Regulations of V/1790 (see below), and later again with more consequences with the Tenpō Reforms, Tenpō no kaikaku 天保の改革 of XII/1838 (Feb/1839), and mostly in Edo and to a much lesser extent in the Kansai Region, although they witnessed serious problems and unrest from the peasant uprising led by Ōshio Heihachirō 1793-1837 大塩平八郎 (cf also Kabuki nenpyō 7:345 歌舞伎年表).

Going back to the popular novels, in the 1760s, we see a considerable increase, numbering a total of 494 titles, with for only 198 the illustrator being mentioned. The majority, some 57% is still of the kurohon genre. And in the 1770s the number still increases to 529 titles, with for 262 of these an illustrator given. As I remarked earlier, this is where we finally see the beginnings of the ukiyo or ‘floating world’ culture. No less than 259 of these titles, some 56%, are of the kibyōshi 黄表紙 genre that by general agreement starts in 1775 with Koikawa Harumachi’s 恋川春町 1744-1789 Professor Clink-Clink’s Dream of Glory, Kinkin sensei eiga no yume『金々先生栄花夢』 illustrated by himself, and published by Urokogataya Magobei 鱗形屋孫兵衛. Ever since, novels of the kibyōshi 黄表紙 genre would continue to be a great success, until they were replaced by novels of both the yomihon 読本 and the gōkanmono 合巻本 genres from about 1805. Indeed, in the 1780s we can see some 653 new titles of the kibyōshi genre alone, an average annual production of 65 titles, with the names of the illustrators given for 475 of them, and their writers now for 529 titles. Later still, in the 1790s, their number stays steady and we can cite some 479 titles.

It is thanks to this ever increasing market of various genres of popular literature that those Edo publishers who chose to just focus on local production, the so-called jihon toiya 地本問屋, could develop. Their audience is the more than 1.3 million inhabitants of the metropolis Edo, undoubtedly also finding an avid readership among the 600.000 samurai directly serving the shogun. In fact, to get back to the writers of popular fiction, Koikawa Harumachi 恋川春町 act 1773-89 who is recognized as the author of the first kibyōshi novel, was a vassal of Matsudaira Hōshū 松平房州, the daimyō of Suruga 駿河侯 (as Kyokutei Bakin 1767-1848 in his recollections, Recent Books and the Party of Edo Writers, Kinsei mono no hon Edo sakusha burui. 曲亭馬琴『近世物の本江戸作者部類』1831, in the Kimura Miyogo 木村三四吾 edition of Tokyo: Yagi Shoten, 1988, p 31 tells us). We shall soon see why exactly this position enabled him to become a prolific writer of fiction (14 kibyōshi in the 1770s and 16 in the 1780s). Taking lessons with Toriyama Sekien 鳥山石燕 1713-1788 — whom we know as the teacher of Kitagawa Utamaro 喜多川歌麿 — he would also make the illustrations for most of his writings himself, as well as illustrating those by other authors. Hōseidō Kisanji 朋誠堂喜三二 1735-1813, act 1777-91 (9 kibyōshi in the 1770s and 24 in the 1780s) enjoyed a similar position as a vassal of Satake Ukeichō 佐竹右京兆, the Kubota daimyō 久保田侯 (Bakin 30).

As for Ichiba Tsūshō 市場通笑 1737-1812 act 1779-95 (8 kibyōshi in the 1770s, 96 in the 1780s, and 4 in the 1790s) he appears to have just written novels in his leisure time, otherwise making a living as a mounter of paintings, hyōgushi 表具師 (Bakin 32). Somewhat comparable is the position of Shiba Zenkō 芝全交 1750-1793 act 1780-93 (27 kibyōshi in the 1780s and 16 in the 1790s), writing popular fiction next to his official position of kyōgen actor 狂言師, a kind of comic performances such as were especially popular in daimyō courts (Bakin 32). And Nansenshō Somando 南仙笑楚満人 act 1783-99 (9 kibyōshi in the 1780s and 19 in the 1790s) made a living as a maker of sword sheaths, 鞘師 (Bakin 33).

Kane wa Ueno kana 『鐘は上野哉』A kibyōshi novel by Santō Kyōden illustrated by Kitao Masanobu, i.e. himself

Here we should realize that their writing popular novels would not necessarily yield them some extra income. As we know from Bakin’s recollections ([Bakin 37] act as a writer of 28 kibyōshi in the years 1793-98), it was only around 1795 or 1796 that the publishers Tsutaya Jūsaburō 蔦屋重三朗 and Tsuruya Kiemon 鶴屋喜衛門 decided to at least pay their star writers Santō Kyōden 山東京伝 1761-1816 (act as a writer of kibyōshi in the years 1780-99, 39 in the 1780s and 61 in the 1790s) and himself, as their novels generally sold in editions of 10 thousand copies or more (mind you, a best seller is presently defined as a book selling to 1% of the population, which would be 13.000 copies in the case of Edo). But this was not automatically applied to most other writers. They might at best hope to get some newly published novels or woodblock prints as a New Year present, or maybe being invited to some dinner party in the second or third month at the Yoshiwara — as had been the custom until then.

This explains how and why samurai writers such as Harumachi and Kisanji could afford writing novels in their spare time, enjoying a regular income anyway. Or also, for example as we saw, Ichiba Tsūshō, Shiba Zenkō and Nansenshō Somando, each of them next to their regular metier. Bakin also tells us that many aspiring writers had to pay a publisher the so-called nyūgin 入銀, a sum to have their writings printed and published, which probably explains the numerous names of authors just identified with one or just a very small number of novels in the last decades of the eighteenth century.

However convincing this may seem, it must also be said that Mizuno Minoru in his Santō Kyōden nenpukō. Tokyo: Perikansha, 1991, p 42 (水野稔『山東京伝年譜稿』東京:ぺりかん社) asserts that Kyōden received an advance of one gold ryō and five silver monme 金一兩銀五匁 in VII/1790 for three sharebon 洒落本 that Tsutaya Jūsaburō would publish in I/1791. This is quite well-documented as this would eventually as a result of the Kansei Regulations of V/1790, in III/1791 lead to Kyōden being fined to 50 days in handcuffs, Tsutaya as the publisher seeing half of his possessions confiscated, and the members of the Guild who had okayed their publication being exiled from Edo. There is probably some reason not to rely too much on Bakin’s memory.

Bakin also informs us that Koikawa Sukimachi 恋川好町 1751-1829, a pupil of Koikawa Harumachi, saw some success as a writer of popular novels (15 in the years 1785-94), but couldn’t really make a living (Bakin 35). He then gave up and started training as a writer of kyōka 狂歌 poems. Becoming a judge of these poems and charging one ryō silver  一銀両for his correcting a hundred poems, he finally could make a living. We now know him best as one of the greatest kyōka poets of the early nineteenth century, Kyōkadō Magao 狂歌堂真顔.

As for the background of Iba Kashō 伊庭可笑 38 kibyōshi in the years 1779-86, we have no idea and Bakin doesn’t mention him. A minor writer such as Shitchin Manpō 七珍万宝1758-1831 could afford to do this as an aside to his sweet shop 上菓子店 by Shiba Zōjōji 芝増上寺, or more precisely at Sakurada Kubochō 桜田久保町 as Kyōka jinmei  jisho 『狂歌人名辞書』 has it (Bakin 38). Bakin specifies that he was a pupil of Manzōtei 万象亭writing fiction from late Tenmei until mid-Kansei. Indeed, I found him active in the years 1787-95 with 21 kibyōshi novels to his name. Later he took the name of Manzōtei II and gave up writing fiction, becoming a renowned kyōka poet, active until his death in 1831.

Sakuragawa Jihinari 櫻川慈悲成 1762-1833? presents a somewhat similar case. Bakin informs us that he was running a small shop of Imari porcelains and metal ornaments 今利焼などの陶器を鬻ぐ小店  and that he had but little success with his writings — 47 kibyōshi in the years 1789-99 — and even still displaying no talent when he turned to writing kyōka poems (Bakin 39). Here I would suggest that he deserves some more praise for what he accomplished, for example, among others, he made some very nice surimono designs himself and initiated a most impressive series of annual New Year’s surimono, and was good or even close friends with Utagawa Toyohiro 歌川豊広, Ichikawa Danjūrō VII 七世市川團十郎, and Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川広重.

In conclusion we may say that writing fiction was, at least in the last decades of the eighteenth century, rather a vocation for those who could afford it and would have some leisure time. When we may believe Bakin, it was only from the middle of the 1790s that both he and Kyōden were being paid for their writings, though there is some evidence that Kyōden was even paid a considerable advance sum already in 1790. We may, on the other hand, assume that illustrators, or at least most of them, were considered to be ‘painters,’ eshi 絵師, and thus craftsmen who were naturally being paid for their work. And this, as I stated at the beginning, is how Torii Kiyomitsu and Kiyotsune could make a living as illustrators in the exploding market of popular novels, with a readership that expected a text that would be enlightened by explanatory illustrations.

Most likely, Koikawa Harumachi who, as we saw, also made the illustrations to most of his writings, was not considered an eshi, even though he studied with Sekien, being a samurai anyway, and thus he was not being paid for his illustrations. It seems that Santō Kyōden studied painting with Kitao Shigemasa 北尾重政 1739-1819 from about 1775, aged 14, and made his debut in 1778 as the artist Kitao Masanobu 北尾政演, illustrating the novel Ohana Hanshichi – Kaichō riyaku no mekuriai『お花半七―開帳利益遊合』 as well as the cover for a jōruribon 浄瑠璃本, illustrating another four novels as well as again a jōruribon in 1779, and in 1780 eleven kibyōshi, one sharebon 洒落本 novel and at least six prints of actors in role in the hosoban 細版 format. And then, maybe sufficiently convinced of some promising future, it is also in 1780 that he starts writing novels, illustrated by himself and published by Tsuruya Kiemon, the Yonemanju no hajimari『米饅頭始』in two vols and signed ‘written and ills by Kitao Masanobu’ 北尾政演画作, and Musume katakiuchi kokyō no nishiki 『娘敵討古郷錦』in three vols and signed ‘written for fun by Kyōden’ 京伝戯作. From then, he would always continue to illustrate most of his writings himself. And, as we learned from Bakin, he would be paid for his writing from about 1795 or 1796. We then have no idea whether it was his lifestyle, needing some more income, that made him run a shop of tobacco pouches and such smoking utensils from IV/1794.

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 2: 1742-1769

From the Kanpō period 寛保 1741-1743, and more exactly from the year 1742, prints with two to three colours printed from blocks begin to appear, the so-called benizurie 紅摺絵, mostly in a colour scheme identical to benie and primarily in the hosoban format. However, it is only from 1744 that these would account for most of the print production, and it is only from about 1750 that they completely supersede urushie, although we can even find a few exceptions as late as 1760. Their designers are Ishikawa Toyonobu 石川豊信 act 1743-59, Torii Kiyomitsu 鳥居清満 act 1745-77, Torii Kiyohiro 鳥居清廣 act 1752-68, and Torii Kiyotsune 鳥居清経 act 1757-78, some of them even adopting the novel technique of full colour printing, nishikie 錦絵, from 1764.

Torii Kiyomitsu: The actor Ichikawa Raizō as Minamoto no Yoshitsune, XI/1761 Courtesy The Art Institute of Chicago

Looking then at prints issued in the period from 1742 to 1769, the heyday of benizurie prints, we notice quite a shift. This period comes to an end when the newly developed full colour prints, nishikie, become the overall standard. Although we can notice a few designers of the Torii-tradition who still as late as 1778 try to serve their traditional clientele with benizurie prints, in the end they too have to submit to innovation.

PeriodWhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697 1760tane urushie42% 9%   5%   29%99.5%
1742 1769benizurie27%9%9% 5% 6%   35%100%

What we see in the benizurie days is that most prints of actors in role are associated with performances in the eleventh month, 35%, those associated with the New Year’s performances being second with only 27%, indeed a total reversal from the preceding period, as if the notion of the ‘kabuki year’ is now being accepted much more widely. In the third place are prints associated with performances in the second and third months, both accounting for 9%. The fourth place is for prints after performances in the seventh month, 6%, followed by those in the fifth month, 5%.

Ishikawa Toyonobu: The actors Nakamura Kiyosaburō as Matsuyama and Ichimura Kamezō as Wanya Kyūbei, XI/1749 Courtesy The Art Institute of Chicago

Yet, even with only five remaining months, and not seven as before, accounting for one to three percent of the prints of actors only, we still must really wonder how designers of prints in much of the eighteenth century could possibly make a living. For most of the print buying audience, if we can even speak of that in this period, it seems to have sufficed to just buy something like one print every year, either after the kaomise performances of the eleventh month, or after the New Year’s performances. And in case they might have forgotten the name of the actor and the role he played, these are invariably printed alongside the figures. Only very few slightly more passionate kabuki lovers, less than 30% in the earlier period it seems, and still less than 40% in this second period, seem to have been buying one or two more prints of actors in role.

We should also take into consideration that it was, until the 1760s, almost impossible to gain some extra income from making book illustrations or even design picture books, ehon 絵本 (of course, Moronobu 菱川師宣 and Jihei 杉村治兵衛 are exceptions in Edo). Okumura Toshinobu is known for just one book, as are Torii Kiyonobu II and Torii Kiyohiro. Nishimura Shigenaga 西村重長 is known for three books, Torii Kiyomasu II for twelve (in a period of 48 years of activity), and Torii Kiyoshige 鳥居清重 for sixteen (in 35 years of activity). If we also include books of erotic content, which the Japanese literature tries to ignore altogether, Torii Kiyonobu I is known for 6 books, five of which are of erotic content, Okumura Masanobu for 36 books, 23 of which are of erotic content, and Ishikawa Toyonobu for 13 books, all of erotic content. However, it is only from the 1760s that Torii Kiyomitsu and Torii Kiyotsune can finally make a living by illustrating 71 and 200 popular novels respectively, in addition to the prints they designed, a totally new development of the time.

Torii Kiyomitsu: The actors Ichimura Uzaemon IX as Nagoya Sanza and Ichimura Kamezō II, XI/1766 Courtesy The Art Institute of Chicago

Indeed, it is only from the 1760s that we find ourselves in a society where what we generally believed to be the ‘Floating World’ can finally, and only then, begin to develop. Until then, popular novels don’t get “popular” thanks to their illustrations or illustrators. And it would seem that, until then, only very few designers of prints could have made a living, or survive by just designing prints. Of course, we have no idea of the survival rate of prints in the eighteenth century, but even when we consider a survival rate of one third or one fourth, how, for example, could Torii Kiyotsune possibly have made a living for 21 years on a total of 3 x 18 = 54, or maybe 4 x 18 = 72 print designs, if only thanks to his illustrations to 200 popular novels? Or if we just take the 149 prints of actors listed by Mutō as a base, should we consider him as someone trying to make a living on the basis of 3 x 149 = 447 or 4 x 149 = 596 – which still comes down to not more than an annual production of 21 or 28 designs, sort of one every other week? Should we consequently consider most of these designers as gifted amateurs with some other regular income to make a living and support their family and occasionally maybe even running a part-time atelier with pupils? Anyway, they are eshi 絵師 or maybe gakō 画工, draughtsmen, certainly belonging to the social class of craftsmen.

Naturally, the various heads of the Torii tradition enjoyed a regular income from painting the posters of the Edo kabuki theatres, which brought them from Osaka to Edo to begin with, and this would go for Torii Kiyonobu 1664-1729, Torii Kiyonobu II 1706-1763, for Torii Kiyomitsu 1735-1785, and maybe also for Torii Kiyonaga 鳥居清長 1752-1815. Moreover, as the heads of the Torii tradition, they must have been able to make a living and train the next generation of Torii designers. The one other exception would be Okumura Masanobu who, as the ’inventor of perspective prints, ukie’ 浮繪根元, and much more, also acted as a real innovative publisher.

Of course, as we know, certainly also from Higuchi’s work, these artists justly considered themselves as craftsmen and also designed prints of fashionable women, as well as other fashionable images. Foremost in this respect are Nishimura Shigenaga act 1719-54, with only 6 prints of actors in role out of a total of 52 prints listed in Higuchi, that is 11%, and the real versatile talent Okumura Masanobu, with only 32 prints of actors out of the 111 works listed with Higuchi, or 28%. In the case of both Ishikawa Toyonobu with 22 prints of actors out of 58 prints listed in Higuchi (Mutō lists 90 prints of actors), and Torii Kiyohiro with 16 prints of actors out of 37 (Mutō lists 145), we are still in the less than 50% range with 38 and 43% respectively. However, for most other artists, prints of actors in role seem to have been their primary production, and consequently we must indeed wonder how they possibly made a living. For Nishimura Shigenobu 西村重信 act 1722-47 with 16 prints of actors out of a total of 27 listed in Higuchi (Mutō lists 46), this makes up for 60% of his oeuvre. Both Torii Kiyomasu I, Okumura Toshinobu, and Torii Kiyomitsu make prints of actors to 65% of their output, Kiyomasu with 39 prints out of 60, Toshinobu with 34 out of 52, and Kiyomitsu with 47 out of the 72 designs listed in Higuchi. Torii Kiyotsune, gets to 77% with 14 prints of actors out of 18, and both Torii Kiyonobu I and Torii Kiyomasu II not really surprisingly reach 79%, Kiyonobu with 62 prints of actors out of 78 designs, and Kiyomasu with at least 60 of the 76 designs by him listed in Higuchi. With Torii Kiyoshige act 1721-63 and Torii Kiyonobu II we get to the 95% range, with Kiyoshige being listed in Higuchi with 19 designs of actors out of a total of 20 designs, and Kiyonobu with 54 out of 57.

Next time A Brief History of Prints of Actors, Part 3A: 1764-1796, or maybe just an Intermezzo: Don’t Look Back

Prints of Japanese Actors – A Brief History Part 1: 1697-1760

It is really fascinating to have a closer look at what came to be called ‘actor prints’ from late Meiji, when the Japanese also started to demonstrate some real interest in Japanese woodblock prints and then coined the term yakushae 役者絵. At the time when these were made, they were simply called ‘pictures of figures,’ sugatae 姿繪, or also ‘pictures of the appearances of actors,’ yakusha no sugatae 役者の姿繪, as in Toyokuni’s series of Yakusha butai no sugatae, The Appearances of Actors on the Stage 役者舞臺之姿繪, so as to distinguish them from what we now know as ‘prints of beauties,’ bijinga 美人画, again a term only coined in the Meiji period for prints that had simply been known as ‘pictures of figures,’ sugatae, at the time, as in Seirō bijin awase sugata kagami, Mirror of Pictures of the Fair Ladies of the Green Houses 『青楼美人合姿鑑』, the 1776 book by Shunshō and Shigemasa.

Indeed, thanks to some quite comprehensive and reliable overviews of prints of actors, we can now discern some interesting shifts of interest that especially give us a better insight in the practices of print production. Until recently, we could probably just avail ourselves of Higuchi Hiroshi’s Shoki ukiyoe kaisetsu 樋口弘『初期浮世絵解説』 of 1977, or even, earlier still, of Helen Gunsaulus’ The Clarence Buckingham collection of Japanese prints: The Primitives, Chicago 1955. But now there is also Mutō Junko’s Shoki ukiyoe to kabuki 武藤純子『初期浮世絵と歌舞伎』 of 2005 as probably the best source available at the moment.

Torii Kiyonobu II, The actor Ichikawa Danjūrō II in the role of Soga no Jūrō in a performance in I/1733 Courtesy The Art Institute of Chicago 1939.2148

Making a chronological inventory of all prints that Mutō lists, and then even splitting them up according to the months when they were issued, we find that most such prints portraying actors in role in the period from 1697 to the mid 1740s can be assigned to the New Year’s performances in the first month. They make up for 42% of the total production, suggesting that it was then some kind of general practice to start the new year buying one’s first (and only?) actor print. Next come those that can be identified with the kaomise 顔見 performances of the eleventh month, the opening of the new kabuki season, 29%, a similar sort of moment for those rather adhering to the official beginning of the kabuki-year. Then follow prints that are associated with performances in the third month, 9%, and with those of the seventh month, 5%. The remaining seven months – there are no performances in the twelfth month – all account for less than 5%, and for the sake of clarity, I ignore them here.

MonthsWhatIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIPrints
1697 1760tane urushie42%  9%       5%     29%99.5%
Torii Kiyomasu, The actor Fujimura Handayū in the role of Ōiso no Tora, I/1715 Courtesy The Art Institute of Chicago 1925.1732

The period that I selected here is not a haphazard one, it covers the early period of prints in line only, sumizurie 墨摺絵, mostly until 1715 (?), and, from 1698-1725, the so-called tane 丹絵 with their characteristic hand colouring in a brilliant cinnabar orange-vermillion with green and yellow, as well as, from 1714-49, the rather predominant urushie 漆絵, prints with a hand-applied black mixed with glue to resemble lacquer, urushi 漆, sometimes even finished with powdered brass in some areas, and, from 1716-49 the less common benie 紅絵, prints hand-coloured with a strong pinkish red pigment and green or yellow. This is also the period of prints in various different formats – a real standardization only dates from 1772 – ranging from very large sheets ōōban 大大判, falling in the range from 594 to 543 x 332 to 312, or large sheets ōban 大判, of 453-380 x 300-270, or medium sheets chūban 中判, of 300 x 215, and, from 1717, the smaller hosoban 細判 of 350-285 x 216-158 that will then soon really become predominant.

These prints were designed by artists such as Torii Kiyonobu 鳥居清信 act 1696-1724, Torii Kiyomasu 鳥居清倍 act 1697-1720), as well as, during part of their careers, by Okumura Masanobu 奥村正信 act 1705-56, Okumura Toshinobu 奥村俊信 act 1717-49, Okumura Toshinobu 奥村利信 act 1717-49, Torii Kiyomasu II 二代鳥居清倍 act 1718-66, and Torii Kiyonobu II 二代鳥居清信 act 1725-61.

Next: Part 2: 1742-1769

Where Would One Buy a Netsuke in Edo: Check the Yellow Pages

Now that we have seen the shopping guides for Osaka and Kyoto, such a guide for Edo, Shopping Yourself in Edo, Edo kaimono hitori annai (江戸買物獨案内, 3 vols) of 1824, was actually, quite surprisingly, published by the Osaka firm of Nakagawa Gorōemon (中川五郎兵衛門) with Yamashiroya Sahei (山城屋佐兵衛), Okadaya Kashichi (岡田屋嘉七), Kuwamura Hanzō (桑村半藏) and Takegawa Fujibei (竹川藤兵衛) of Edo, and Kawanami Shirōbei (河南四郎兵衛) and Suzuya Yasubei (鈴屋安兵衛) of Kyoto, and Yanagiwara Kihei (柳原喜兵衛), Morimoto Tasuke (森本太助) and Nakagawa Gorōbei (中川五郎兵衛) of Osaka. It would seem that the Osaka publisher also acted as the compiler of the guide under the name of Nakagawa Hōsandō (中川芳山堂). And would he be the same as Nakagawa Gohei (中川五兵衛) whom we saw as the publisher of the Osaka shopping guide? All in all, the Edo guide lists 2622 shops, 151 of these are restaurants, all listed in the third volume. Anyway Nakagawa undoubtedly also targeted the Edo market, asking Ōta Nanpo (大田南畝, 1749-1823) to write a foreword, dated 1822, and asking Hokusai to contribute some illustrations (that apparently until now went unnoticed by all Hokusai researchers, so I’ll come back to these sometime soon).

A samurai spotting a toad on his shoulder, signed Takamasa 貴正 (Courtesy National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden)

Here we find, under the letter ‘ne,’ two shops explicitly selling netsuke: Yamagataya Sukejirō (山形屋助次郎) at Tōri Shiochō (通塩町), also advertizing a stock of leather pouches (?, 革提) and all kinds of ojime, and Fujishima Matsugorō (藤島松五郎) at Suwachō in Asakusa (浅草諏訪町), who is otherwise a woodcarving atelier making netsuke and ojime as well as pipecases, kiseruzutsu (煙管筒). According to this guide, Hiroseya Kashichi (廣瀬屋嘉七) of the Guild of Paper Tobacco Pouches (紙煙草入問屋) – which we don’t have in Kyoto or Osaka — at Bakurochō sanchōme (馬喰町三丁目), is also selling netsuke and ojime (緒留), and pouches, of course, even all kinds of leather pouches (?), as well as paper handkerchiefs (did we have paper handkerchiefs by then? remember, we are in 1824), and kanamono (金物, probably small knives, kozuka, razors, scissors, and the like). Misuya Zenbei (三栖屋善兵衛) of Ōtenmachōdōri Hatagochō (大傳馬町通旅篭町) sells all kinds of netsuke and ojime, as well as tobacco pouches made of both Kyoto and Ise fabrics. But unlike the shopping guides of Osaka and Kyoto, none of the forty haberdashers in this shopping guide — and there must have been many many more in this largest city of the world — claims to also sell netsuke, they do mention selling combs, ornamental hairpins of both the kōgai and kanzashi types, and some even ivory, but none of them specifically mentions netsuke. And this also goes for the forty dealers of tortoise, bekkō (鼈甲), most of these also working in ivory, but none of them mentions that they also make netsuke.

A Shishi lion with its paws on a jewel (Courtesy National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden)

Anyway, we may well conclude that there were, indeed, a few shops with an atelier where people were carving netsuke in various materials. Maybe most artisans engaged in netsuke carving would occasionally also sell their works through these shops, but mostly, it seems, they would try and make arrangements with the ubiquitous haberdashers, komamonoya, and this was how they found buyers for their works and where people wanting to buy a netsuke, or just another netsuke so they might fit these with another inrō or tobacco pouch would go. And for some Kokusai 谷齋 netsuke you would probably go and try one of the Asakusa haberdashers.