Tsukioka Yoshitoshi’s (1839-1892) career spanned the late Edo and early Meiji periods. He trained in the <em>ie</em> ‘studio’ of Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1798-1861). His early works gave late Utagawa school theatricality an even greater sense of energy. A taste for lurid melodrama became progressively grotesque as he experienced periods of depression and hospitalisation that interrupted his professional activities. Two events provided opportunities for his professional revival. The first was the opportunity to design "overtly anti-foreign" patriotic reportage illustrations for newspaper and journal inserts in publications like <em>Yamato Shinbun</em>. The second was the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877, much celebrated in the film <em>The Last Samurai</em>, which ended in their tragic defeat.
This, however, heralded a positive future for Yoshitoshi. The public were eager for news of rebellion events, and Yoshitoshi’s colour newspaper illustrations were an immediate hit. He published at least thirteen sets of colour print triptych inserts for these publications; between two and 23 compositions survive from each series. Their common theme is the defeat of a shambolic samurai assembly by superior, smartly dressed and impeccably organised Imperial forces. Ironically, while Yoshitoshi’s Satsuma Rebellion illustrations lionised the superiority of the modern Imperial military force over the samurai community, his final projects celebrated the military history, national heroes, and folk lore of pre-Meiji Japan.
Yoshitoshi’s final years were productive. They saw his commitment to three ambitious serial projects: <em>Tsuki hyakkei</em> (<em>One Hundred Aspects of the Moon</em>, 1885-1892); <em>Shingata sanjūrokkaisen</em> (<em>New Forms of Thirty-six Ghosts</em>, 1889-1892); and <em>Yoshitoshi musha burui</em> (<em>Yoshitoshi’s Courageous Warriors</em>, 1883-1886). Te Papa acquired four prints from the latter series from the Heriot collection. Each represents an historically significant military figure from the late Heian period or the Sengoku ‘Warring States’ period between the 15th and 17th centuries. While they share the complex design of the earlier Meiji works, their linear finesse, refined sense of colour and remarkable technical refinement set them apart from the melodramatics of earlier commissions. These were promoted as ‘top-shelf’ publications. A column in the newspaper <em>Yomiuri shinbun</em> of May 16 1886 advertising two sheets from the series describes Yoshitoshi as <em>ukiyo-e no taito</em> – ‘the great authority’. The works were allocated an ‘A’ grade status in the 1885 <em>nazorae saiken</em> (‘riddle guidebooks’, published as guides to Edo cultural engagements, including judgements on artist quality). The works were an instant success, reprinted immediately after the first edition, and continuously until a decade after Yoshitoshi’s death.
Significant events in the life of the 14th century court attendant Hino Kumawaka are known largely from accounts in <em>Heike Monogatari</em>, the narrative (written from the Heike, or Taira, point of view) of the Minamoto-Taira conflicts. Both Kumawaka his father Suketomo (d. 1332) were attendants to the Emperor Go-Daigo. Following a conspiracy in the Imperial Court, Suketomo was exiled to the island of Sado, pending execution by the monk Homma Saburō. Kumawaka, aged thirteen, followed his father to Sado. Homma Saburō refused to allow Kumawaka to meet with Suketomo before the execution. Kumawaka was able to convey his father’s ashes to Mount Kōya. Then, after a period in hiding, he crept into Homma’s residence under cover of night, stabbed him, and fled. With over a hundred of Homma’s guards in pursuit, Kumawaka made for the port to escape by sea. An elderly monk carried the exhausted boy to the wharf, where they found the last boat setting sail. Their urgent pleas and the monk’s sincere incantations convinced the boat to return, and they escaped.
Yoshitoshi has chosen to represent his hero at his most vulnerable, young and sincere in his actions, hands raised in desperation, as the ship sails toward the horizon. It all looks hopeless. The urgency of the figures, the dynamic rhythms of waves and wind-blown garments, and a familiar narrative ensured the popularity of these works.
Why did Yoshitoshi turn from pro-Imperial reportage to the subjects and sensibilities of Edo for these final projects? As atonement for the vulgar transgressions of his mid-career? Or because subjects of military history or Japanese folklore might offer a leavening antidote to the changes that threatened to alter his world? The heroes of earlier Japan certainly offered exemplary models of loyalty, dignity, and valour to the new milieu of Tokyo. In any case, the fine design, engaging themes and tour de force technical excellence of his last works established rich examples for the generation that followed him.
Source: David Bell, 'A new vision: modern Japanese prints from the Heriot collection', <em>Tuhinga</em> 31 (forthcoming; due 2020).
Dr Mark Stocker Curator, Historical International Art May 2019
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