Portraiture in Utamaro's prints

Did Utamaro attempt to portray the facial characteristics of individual women, or simply depict facial "types" which were considered pleasing without much concern for whether or not an image closely resembled the subject? Certainly, Utamaro's images of women don't come close to the Western idea of portraiture because there is no use of light and shadow and features are rendered by the use of line alone. However, if you take a look at the lines used to depict the faces of the women Utamaro portrayed, there are elements which exist in studies of individually named women which demonstrate an effort on the artist's part to produce a likeness. Two young women who appear frequently in Utamaro's prints are Naniwaya Okita and Takashima Ohisa, so I thought I'd use these women as examples. If you take a look at the group of six images of these women below, the three pictures in the top row of the group depict Ohisa, and the group of three below those depict her rival Okita. When comparing the facial features of these women, look at the shape of the nose, the length of the ears, the shape and fullness of the lips, and the positioning of the eyes and eyebrows. The bridge of Okita's nose in all three images is more pronounced than her rival's, which is long and slender. Okita's ears are smaller than Ohisa's, and her mouth is more delicate. Ohisa's mouth is wider, with the bottom lip protruding a little, suggesting a more pronounced jaw line. To my mind, the two women can be identified by their facial features when set side by side, and those distinct facial features are present in various different prints, which suggests an attempt at portraiture.


It's been suggested that there is no reason to assume Utamaro ever came face to face with the women he portrayed. As an artist, I find it hard to imagine not taking the opportunity to view the features of your chosen subject before portraying them. Otherwise, what is your point of reference? Okita and Ohisa both worked in teashops, so they were on display to their customers throughout the working day. Would Utamaro not have made a visit to these two famous teahouses, considering the number of times he portrayed these well-renowned beauties? Of course we don't know that he did meet them in the flesh, but given their proximity to him wouldn't it be more likely that he did?

So why now? Or more importantly, why not then?

Recently I was asked why I'd not thought of writing a book about Japanese prints earlier, as it is clear to everyone who meets me that I am absolutely obsessed with them. In truth, the thought occurred many years ago, it's simply the case that the book did not follow. Before I explain why I chose to write it now, I must explain why I didn't write it when the idea first entered my head. During my last conversation with Jack Hillier, which took place shortly before he passed away at the beginning of 1995, the subject of my planned book came up. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time I'd got some idea of the direction I wanted to go in. It was a serious discussion, and it was my intention to start work on the project almost immediately. In fact, I did begin writing the introduction. Then the news came, he'd gone.

Jack Hillier wasn't just my teacher, always there to give me a shove in the right direction when I went meandering off down the wrong path... he was a dear friend. Continuing at that point in time wasn't an option. Every print I looked at, every book about Japanese prints I opened, all of it reminded me of him. I made the decision to continue with the research but put the book on hold for a while. Then time slipped away.

So what made me finally begin writing the book, after all the time that had passed? Last January I almost died. It was touch and go there for a while, and an experience like that tends to bring about a drastic change in perspective. As soon as I was well enough I began work, and I didn't stop until I had finished. So there you have it... I stopped, I started, and now I seem to be incapable of doing anything other than going on, so this is just the beginning...

Missing masterpieces

I recently bought a book called "Missing Masterpieces: Lost Works of Art 1450-1900". The masterpieces in question are all European works of art, but it made me think about the number of entries I come across in books and catalogues of Japanese prints which refer to the whereabouts of particular designs as being unknown. Every time I see the words "there are written references to [such-and-such design]", I wonder what happened to the print, is it still in existence, and will I ever have the opportunity to see it. Whilst browsing through Asano & Clark's catalogue of the British Museum exhibition of Utamaro's prints which took place in 1995, I came across the entry for the series Fûryû shiki no asobi (Elegant Pastimes of the Four Seasons), published by Tsuruya Kiemon around 1798-9, and read the words "there are written references to... (?) "Ninth month" (Kikuzuki)". On this occasion, at least, I can answer two of those three questions... whilst I have no idea where it is now (it was in Holland at one point), I do know that about fifteen years ago it did exist and I did have the opportunity to see it. Unfortunately the black and white image I have of it is a poor one, but that's better than nothing. The title, "Chrysanthemum Viewing in the Ninth Month", as we can see from the print itself, is self-explanatory. There are a number of other prints which I've come across over the years which are often referred to as being "mentioned in written sources", and I will try at some point to post the images I have... time permitting.

Right under my nose!

After spending most of Sunday afternoon contemplating which woodblock print could be considered my favourite, I found today that the answer had been right under my nose all along... or to my right and up a bit, to be precise. Hanging on the wall, only a few feet from where I sit to write every day of every week, is a print by the pioneering Israeli artist, and collector of Japanese prints, Jacob Pins (17th January 1917 - 4th December 2005)... a portrait of Jack Hillier produced in 1992. Mary Hillier fondly called it "Jack admiring Eishi", and aside from the fact that it is a very attractive print, there is a good likeness and the print holds great sentimental value for me. So there you have it... a firm favourite staring me right in the face.

Utamaro Revealed book trailer

Getting reacquainted...

I found myself, on this rainy grey Sunday afternoon, with an hour or so to kill, and little energy to do anything approaching real work. It's been a hectic few months and, ironically, whilst spending so much time writing about Japanese prints I haven't had much of an opportunity to simply sit back and admire them. Today I decided to remedy the situation.

I'm often asked which woodblock print is my favourite. Well, when I'm stone cold sober (as opposed to being surrounded by the objects of my obsession and intoxicated by them), I can usually answer the question. Recently, the print which always comes to mind is the one chosen for the cover of Utamaro Revealed. Today, with a multitude of prints spread out before me, however, when the question was asked I could make no response. There's just too much choice.

Aside from Utamaro, I am very fond of Noel Nouet. I have always had a great interest in the influence of Japanese woodcut prints upon European artists, and I very much like the mix of Japanese and European methods of depiction contained in Nouet's prints. I bought this particular print quite a while back. I like the fact that it's signed by the artist for one Mr Allen. I like old books with inscriptions inside them too... they give you a glimpse of the book or print's history, who owned it, where it's been, etc. They also remind you that you're only the object's custodian for a limited period of time, and that you have a duty to care for it until it passes into the hands of its next keeper.

Aside from Utamaro and Nouet, I have been collecting prints which have rats for their subject for the past few years. My most recent acquisition was an octagonal fan print by Shibata Zeshin. Knowing rats very well, as I live with eight female ones, I can say without a shadow of doubt that no artists have captured the character and personality of the rat as well as the woodblock print artists of Japan.