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 fifteenth and seventeenth 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 <em>Yoshitoshi as 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.
Chinzei Hachirō Tametomo (Minamoto no Tametomo, 1139-1170) was famed for his strength as an archer. His drawing arm was reputed to be four inches longer than his other, and he had sunk a Taira ship with a single arrow. He served under the Emperor Sutoku with Minamoto forces against those of Taira no Kiyomori and his own brother Yoshitomo in the Hōgen Rebellion of 1156. Following the Minamoto defeat, the Taira cut the sinews of Tametomo’s left arm and exiled him to the island of Ōshima, off Izu Peninsula. Narratives of his journeying to Okinawa and fathering its future leader supported Meiji period arguments for Japanese sovereignty over the Ryūkyū islands; these now seem spurious. Eventually, Tametomo committed <em>seppuku</em>. His adventures made him a popular kabuki and pictorial subject. This representation of Tametomo, brawny, legs akimbo, resolute, and towering over the crouched, howling figures of two disheveled, dark-skinned, hairy islanders, offer telling insights into the prejudices of Yoshitoshi’s own world.
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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