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With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. (Max Ehrmann, Desiderata)

Happy New Year, everyone! I wish you many beautiful sunrises. Take care and stay safe!

Top to bottom, left to right: Yoshida Hiroshi, Sunrise From Fuji (1928); Kawase Hasui, Morning at Cape Inubo (1931); Yoshida Hiroshi, Sunrise on Mt Eboshi (1926); Ito Shinsui, Morning at Kanbayashi (no date); Morozumi Osamu, Sunrise at Mt Fuji (2003).

Sources: https://www.annexgalleries.com (No. 1); https://ukiyo-e.org/

#new year #new year 2017 #japanese woodblock #japanese art #sunrise #yoshida hiroshi #ito shinsui #kawase hasui #morozumi osamu #happy new year #desiderata

Morozumi Osamu was born in Nagano Prefecture in 1948. Initially he studied sculpture, but finally he devoted himself to woodblock print and won international recognition in the 1970s. Morozumi developed his own technique of printmaking which employs indentations made in the blocks with nails of various sizes. His forms, possessing a sculpture-like quality, are rendered in vivid colours highlighting the atmosphere of changing seasons.

Top to bottom, left to right: Rice Field in Hakuba Village (1995); Evening Light at Mt Fuji (2006); Byobu Rock Wall in the Autumn (2003); Preparation for Winter (2006); Mt Yari in the Autumn (1996); Azumino Village in Twilight (1998). Source: https://ukiyo-e.org/

#morozumi osamu #japanese woodblock #japanese art #japanese art 20th century #japanese woodblock 20th century #japanese landscape #modern japanese artists #woodblock print landscape

I’m in it everywhere. What a miracle trees lakes clouds even dust. (Ikkyū Sōjun [1394–1481], Japanese Zen master and poet; tr. S. Berg)

If you think about it, such casual expansion into the lake and the clouds, and every leaf on every tree, and every grain of dust on the shore may seem unnecessary and somewhat ostentatious. But if you sense the lake and the clouds filling you to overflowing, and hear inside you a rush of wind among the leaves, and somehow bear the slight inconvenience of the grains of dust appearing from nowhere on your tongue—then you might just say, ‘Well, why not the other way round?’.

Top to bottom, left to right: Kawase Hasui, Matsubara Lake, 1941 [source]; Tsuchiya Koitsu, Lake Shojin, 1934 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Rain on Lake Matsume, 1932 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Nenokuchi, Towada, 1933 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Lake Ezu in Kumamoto, 1923 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Kisaki Lake in Shinsu, 1941 [source].

#japanese woodblock #japanese art 20th century #woodblock print #kawase hasui #tsuchiya koitsu #lakes #japanese lakes #japanese landscape #ikkyu sojun #zen poetry

The clouds, the river go by unmindful of them; The Dipper’s bright reflection shines in the water. Let’s pretend that Umeda Bridge Is the bridge the magpies built Across the Milky Way, and make a vow To be husband and wife stars for eternity. (Chikamatsu Monzaemon [1653-1725], fragment of michiyuki from the play Sonezaki shinjū [1703]; tr. Donald Keene)

Standing in the middle of a bridge, one can grasp a feeling of sharp and sudden joy of meeting preceded by long and patient waiting. Under an indifferent sky, two cheering riverbanks and a bitter smile of a deceived river.

Top to bottom, left to right: Kawase Hasui, Kaminohashi Bridge, Fukagawa, 1920 [source]; Hiroshi Yoshida, Hirakawa Bridge, 1929 [source]; Kiyochika Kobayashi, Nihonbashi at Night, 1910s-1920s [source]; Hiroshi Yoshida, Seta Bridge, 1933 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Mt. Fuji and Kawai Bridge, 1947 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Asahi Bridge in Kosentani, 1921 [source]; Inoue Yasuji, Night View of Nihonbashi Bridge, 1880s [source].

#japanese woodblock #shin hanga #japanese art 20th century #woodblock print #kawase hasui #hiroshi yoshida #kiyochika kobayashi #inoue yasuji #bridges #japanese bridges #chikamatsu monzaemon #sonezaki shinju

Nobody told the flowers to come up nobody Will ask them to leave when spring’s gone (Ikkyū Sōjun [1394–1481], Japanese Zen master and poet; transl. S. Berg)

Bursting with colour and scent, the flowers bloom every year; and every year they wilt and fade yielding to unshakable order. And who knows, maybe it is their very acquiescence that produces the most brilliant act of defiance when, oblivious of the impermanence of things, they shamelessly display a profusion of colour, completely unasked for?

Top to bottom, left to right: Kawase Hasui, View of an Azalea Garden and Mt. Fuji, 1935 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Two Young Women Strolling in an Azalea Garden, 1935 [source]; Kawase Hasui, View of an Azalea Garden from a Verandah, 1935 [source]; Toshi Yoshida, Silver Pavilion, Kyoto, 1951 [source]; Toshi Yoshida, A Friendly Garden: Plum Tree, Bamboo, Pine, 1980 [source].

#japanese woodblock #shin hanga #gardens #japanese gardens #flowers #spring and summer #japanese art 20th century #kawase hasui #yoshida toshi #hasui kawase #toshi yoshida #japanese gardens in art #ikkyu sojun

… Perhaps thinking to dye her clothes, Perhaps intending to visit The beckoning plumes of grass, She went off alone …

(Kamo no Mabuchi [1697–1769], Japanese poet and philologist of the Edo period; tr. D. Keene, after World within Walls) Kasamatsu Shiro, Evening Mist at Yushima Tenjin Shrine, 1936 [source].

#kamo no mabuchi #edo period poetry #japanese poetry #woman #shiro kasamatsu #japanese woodblock

Shiro Kasamatsu (1898–1991) was born in Tokyo. He began his art studies at the age of thirteen. Although he collaborated fruitfully with publishers such as Watanabe Shozaburō or Unsodo, he was intrigued by the independent movement of sosaku hanga, in which the artists were both designers and printers, having full control over the creative process. However, it was no sooner than in the late 1950s that Kasamatsu realised his dream of independence. His main subjects included landscapes and city views; he excelled in dusk and night scenes. Kasamatsuʼs masterful use of lighting effects allowed him to evoke an atmosphere of tranquil melancholy. His self-carved prints are less smooth and refined than his shin hanga pieces, but they gain much in simplicity and expressiveness.

Top to bottom, left to right: Flower Shower, 1939 [source]; Misty Evening at Shinobazu Pond, 1932 [source]; Spring Night at Ginza, 1934 [source]; Dusk at Futago, 1939 [source]; Sunset on Furutone River, 1939 [source]; Balcony Terrace of Kanaya Hotel, 1941 [source]; Passage, 1962 [source]; Autumn in Ohara, 1963 [source].

#shiro kasamatsu #kasamatsu shiro #japanese woodblock #shin hanga #sosaku hanga #japanese art 20th century #watanabe shozaburo #landscape japanese art

I wake and find the coloured iris I saw in my dream. (Ome Shushiki [1669–1725], Japanese haiku poet of the Edo period; transl. Y. Hoffmann)

Under the sun of May borders melt and disappear; irises from the dream bloom among the grasses and the garden expands shamelessly into the dream, grasses, irises, and all. Any way you slice it—continuity.

Top to bottom, left to right: Yoshida Hiroshi, Iris Garden in Horikiri, 1928 [source]; Shufu Miyamoto, Iris in Rain, 2000 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Sobu Iris Garden, Meiji Shrine, 1951 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Iris, 1929 [source]; Katsuyuki Nishijima, Canal of Sasayama, 2009 [source].

#japanese woodblock #shin hanga #japanese art #iris #spring flowers #japanese iris #yoshida hiroshi #shufu miyamoto #kawase hasui #ome shushiki #katsuyuki nishijima

Sleeplessly I watch over the spring night— but no amount of guarding is enough to make it stay. (Izumi Shikibu, Japanese poet of the mid-Heian period; tr. J. Hirschfeld & M. Aratani)

A spring night, made of blossom, moonlight, and the whisper of the wind in fresh green leaves is fragile by its very nature; trying to grasp it in its floating splendour is a vain effort. But its spirit is persistent—so much so that sometimes in mid-winter we catch a sudden whiff of cherry petals bathed in moonlight.

Top to bottom, left to right: Tsuchiya Koitsu, Benkei Bridge, 1933 [source]; Tsuchiya Koitsu, Spring Moon at Osaka Castle, 1932 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Spring Evening at Inokashira Park, 1931 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Spring Evening at the Tōshōgū Shrine in Ueno, 1948 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Night View of Cherry Blossoms at Koganei, 1935 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Tochinoki Hot Springs in Higo Province, 1922 [source].

#japanese woodblock #shin hanga #japanese art 20th century #cherry blossom #cherry blossom in art #japanese cherries #spring night #tsuchiya koitsu #kawase hasui #japanese landscape #night landscape #izumi shikibu

Shibata Zeshin (1807–1891) was a painter and lacquerer active in the late Edo and early Meiji periods. Along with professional skills, he learned poetry, history, and philosophy; he also practiced the Way of Tea. He excelled in the technique of lacquer-painting (urushi-e), experimenting with colours and textures. Zeshin was probably the first artist to use lacquer not only for decorating objects, but also as a medium for painting on paper. His immense output includes various items decorated with lacquer (trays, boxes, inro), tea ceremony utensils, painted screens, hanging scrolls, and fan paintings. Although revolutionary in terms of technique, Zeshin remained faithful to traditional subjects, depicting plants, insects, animals, and landscapes. His work is characterised by a great sensitivity to form and composition.

Top to bottom, left to right: Autumn Grasses in Moonlight, two-panel folding screen, ink, silver, lacquer on paper second half of the 19th c. [source]; Cat Tails and Moon, album leaf, lacquer on silver paper, Edo period [source]; Birds and Jutting Rocks, album leaf, lacquer on silver paper, Edo period [source]; Autumn Grasses in Moonlight, fragment of two-panel folding screen, ink, silver leaf, and lacquer on paper, between 1871–1891 [source]; Sun and Plum Branches, album leaf, lacquer on paper, Edo period [source].

#shibata zeshin #zeshin shibata #japanese art #urushi-e #lacquer painting #japanese lacquer #japanese art edo #japanese art meiji

I won’t die I won’t go away I’ll always be here No good asking me I won’t speak (Ikkyū Sōjun [1394–1481], Japanese Zen master and poet).

It sometimes happens that when light mingles with wind, a radiant silence emerges from their embrace. Things long gone and things yet to come appear clearly as through a bright jewel. Sounds dim its light, too bright to withstand. Thatʼs why we speak too much.

Top to bottom, left to right: Hiroshi Yoshida, Sea of Clouds, 1928 [source]; Hiroshi Yoshida, Kinchinjanga—Afternoon, 1931 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Mt. Fuji from Satta Pass, 1935 [source]; Hiroshi Yoshida, Musashino, 1928 [source]; Utagawa Hiroshige I, Tsushima Province: A Fine Evening on the Coast, 1856 [source]; Utagawa Hiroshige I, Jūmantsubo Plain at Fukagawa Susaki, 1856 [source]; Gesso Yoshimoto, Birds and Mt. Fuji, 1930s [source].

#shin hanga #ukiyoe #japanese woodblock #japanese art #landscape #hiroshi yoshida #kawase hasui #utagawa hiroshige #gesso yoshimoto #ikkyu #ikkyu sojun #zen poetry

There is much to be said for cherry blossoms, but they seem so flighty. They are so quick to run off and leave you. And then just when your regrets are the strongest the wisteria comes into bloom, and it blooms on into the summer. There is nothing quite like it. Even the colour is somehow companionable and inviting. (Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji, Chapter 33; transl. E. Seidensticker)

Clinging on to its support, the wisteria could perhaps be considered a weakling. But arenʼt the dazzling beauty of its sheltering branches and its lingering presence when other flowers are long gone signs of deep compassion that only humility can teach?

Wisteria-prompt by the wonderful @todayintokyo. Thank you!

Top to bottom, left to right: Utagawa Hiroshige, Inside Kameido Tenjin Shrine, 1856 [source]; Yoshida style, Wisteria at Kameido, 1930s [source]; Hiroshi Yoshida, Wisteria Garden, 1935 [source]; Tsuchiya Koitsu, Wisteria and Half Moon Bridge at Kameido, 1933 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Wisteria at Kameido, 1932 [source].

#japanese woodblock #ukiyoe #japanese art #wisteria #wisteria woodblocks #utagawa hiroshige #hiroshi yoshida #tsuchiya koitsu #kawase hasui #kameido #kameido bridge #kameido shrine #murasaki shikibu #tale of genji #genji monogatari #photoset commission

The flowers withered Their colour faded away While meaninglessly I spent my days in the world And the long rains were falling. (Ono no Komachi, Japanese poet of the early Heian period; tr. D. Keene)

Portraits of women take a special place among the numerous works of Kiyoshi Saitō (1907–1997). A member of the sōsaku-hanga (‘creative printʼ) movement, Saitō focused on simplification of forms and reduction of colours distributed in large and clearly delineated patches. His subjects included landscapes, still lifes, animals, and portraits. In a series of depictions of women he perfectly unites the sensations of balance, tension, and ineffable melancholy. Moreover, Saitōʼs artistic sensitivity sometimes allows an inanimate object—a bunraku puppet—to have a share in this serene struggle.

Top to bottom, left to right: Maiko [source]; Maiko (2), c. 1960 [source]; Maiko, Kyoto, 1961 [source]; Maiko, Kyoto, 1959 [source]; Maiko (I), 1950s [source]; Bunraku puppet (Untitled—A), probably 1960s [source].

#kiyoshi saito #saito kiyoshi #japanese woodblock #japanese art 20th century #maiko #maiko in art #sosaku hanga #ono no komachi #bunraku #bunraku puppet #bunraku in visual art

Hiroshi Yoshida (1876–1950) was born in Kurume in Fukuoka prefecture. He studied art in Kyoto and Tokyo and began his career as a painter, turning to woodblock print only after 1920. In 1925 he established his own atelier, where he supervised a group of carvers and printers, in the manner of the collaborative system typical of the traditional ukiyo-e. However, Yoshida was also actively engaged in the printmaking process. He drew inspiration not only from Japanese landscape, but also from his travel experiences. A keen traveller, Yoshida visited, among others, the United States, Europe, India, and Africa.

Top to bottom, left to right: Mt. Fuji from Okitsu [source]; Cryptomeria Avenue [source]; Bamboo Wood [source]; Small Town in Chugoku District [source]; Shrine in the Deep Wood [source]; Rapids [source].

#japanese woodblock #shin hanga #hiroshi yoshida #yoshida hiroshi #japanese art 20th century #landscape #japanese landscape in art #japanese artists

Short break due to technical reasons

Hopefully, I’ll be back in a week or so. Have a good and peaceful weekend!

#break #hiatus #technical hiatus #Bando Tamasaburo #onnagata photo

The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a new spring. Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise. Mori, if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you, Let me burn in hell forever. (Ikkyū Sōjun [1394–1481], Japanese Zen master and poet, to his mistress—the blind minstrel Mori)

After all, there are some forms of excess to which one can consent: the insolent omnipresence of verdure and the dazzling outburst of blossom.

Top to bottom, left to right: Kawase Hasui, Anraku Hot Springs, Ōsumi, 1923 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Spring In Yugashima, Izu, 1936 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Mt. Fuji and Sugukawa, 1930s, [source]; Henmi Takashi, Oirase in Spring, 1949 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Kintai Bridge, 1947 [source]; Tsuchiya Koitsu, Banyugawa, 1938 [source]; Nishijima Katsuyuki, Spring in a Village, late 20th c. [source].

#japanese woodblock #japanese art #japanese art 20th century #shin hanga #spring #japanese landscape #japanese spring #kawase hasui #henmi takashi #tsuchiya koitsu #nishijima katsuyuki #ikkyu #ikkyu sojun #mori #mori the minstrel

In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger. (Kobayashi Issa [1763–1828], Japanese poet and writer)

Hanami—Part 1. In the eighteenth century the nishiki-e technique of making coloured woodblock prints was invented. The eighteenth-century prints capture lively genre scenes whose protagonists are often young, idealised lovers, courtesans, and visitors to the licensed quarters. Slender figures rendered in precise, flowing lines still wander among blossoming cherry trees in a vast number of hanami-related prints of the period. Their floating world is long gone, but their graceful, familiar gestures and quick glances linger stubbornly in the shadow of unfading flowers.

Beginning the hanami with (top to bottom left to right): Hosoda Eishi, Lady in a Court Carriage Viewing Cherry Blossoms, 1796 [source]; Katsukawa Shuncho, Gathering Spring Flowers by the Pond of the Twelve Kumano Shrines at Tsunohazu, 1790 [source]; Torii Kiyonaga, Cherry Trees on the Banks of the Sumida River, 1792 [source]; Torii Kiyonaga, Courtesans Viewing Cherry Blossoms, 1785 [source]; Suzuki Harunobu, Cherry, the King of Flowers, 1769 [source]; Utagawa Toyokuni I, Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom at Naka-no-chō in the Yoshiwara, 1791–1793 [source].

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