Hiroshige: artist of the open road @ the British Museum

This is a wonderfully beautiful show of pure visual, intellectual and aesthetic pleasure.

A leading US collector of Hiroshige’s work, Mr Alan Medaugh, has recently gifted 35 prints by Hiroshige to the American Friends of the British Museum and loaned a further 82 works, and it’s these – plus additions from the British Museum’s own collection and the more modern works in the final section –which make up the contents of this fabulous exhibition. Thank you very much indeed Mr Medaugh!

Ferry on the Fuji River, Suruga Province from Famous Places in Japan c. 1832 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print © The Trustees of the British Museum

Hence this exhibition, the first on Hiroshige to be held in London for quarter of a century, and the first ever to be held at the British Museum. The great majority of the prints in the exhibition have never been displayed before, and several are believed to be the only surviving examples of their kind in the world.

The title has two elements, Hiroshige, and the open road, and thereafter is divided into themes or topics. I’ll address them one by one.

Preliminary note

This review relies more than usual on the curators’ own words, which can be found in the large print guide i.e. the complete wall labels, for the exhibition. This is because it is a more than usually scholarly and academic exhibition. At exhibitions of Giuseppe Penone or even Arpita Singh, I can start from my knowledge of western art and the traditions those artists invoke and movements they work within, to generate my own thoughts about the design and style and themes of their work.

This is not that kind of exhibition. It is highly educational about a subject and style remote from most of us. It is a display of immense scholarship which digs into levels of detail – for example about different types of Japanese nature painting, or the subtle influence of Chinese schools of landscape painting on Japanese art – which you and I are just not informed about.

Did you know that a yūjo is the name for a Japanese sex worker or courtesan or that bijin-ga (pictures of beautiful women) were one of Hiroshige’s most popular print subjects? Could you distinguish between Hiroshige’s style and the compositionally bolder style of the Kyoto Maruyama-Shijō school? Or that the tanzaku is the name for the tall, narrow format of a strip of paper used to record poems?

No. Me neither. This is a very information-dense exhibition which is why to write a meaningful review I need to repeat a lot of the scholarly commentary which informs the show.

Hiroshige

Utagawa Hiroshige (1797 to 1858) was one of Japan’s most prolific and popular artists. People at every level of society embraced his calm, lyrical depictions of daily life, nature and the rural landscape. The work of modern and contemporary artists across Europe, the US and Japan reveals his lasting influence.

Born into a low-ranking samurai family in Edo (present-day Tokyo), Hiroshige was orphaned at the age of 12 and inherited his father’s title of fire warden. A superior in the fire department taught him to paint in the Kano school style. By the 1830s he was focusing on what were to become his best-known subjects: tranquil views of famous places, panoramic views of city life, and beautiful depictions of the natural world. Over time he became renowned for his innovative compositions and subtle use of graded ink tones (bokashi).

Hiroshige’s earliest series depict scenes in and around his home city of Edo, such as ‘Famous Places in the Eastern Capital’ and ‘Eight Views of the Eastern Capital’. They depict well-known sights around Edo Bay.

Pleasure Boats at Ryōgoku in the Eastern Capital, 1832-4 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Following a career spanning more than four decades, Hiroshige died on the 12 October 1858, perhaps the victim of a cholera epidemic then afflicting Edo.

Avoiding politics

Hiroshige lived at the end of the Edo period (1615 to 1868), when a samurai government ruled Japan from the city of Edo. It was a time of urban growth, but also of famine, social crisis and foreign military incursions. Hiroshige, however, avoided depicting turmoil in his art. On the contrary it was his realistic but beautifully stylised landscapes that earned him greatest fame in his lifetime and continue to win admiration today.

The open road

The samurai government of Japan had banned foreign travel since the 1630s but by Hiroshige’s time there was a growing interest in domestic journeys. Samurai lords with hundreds of attendants made their way to Edo to pay their respects to the shogun. Others set off on business, pilgrimage and sightseeing trips, independently or in organised groups.

Inspired by his own explorations, and by East Asian painting traditions and guidebooks, Hiroshige created landscape pictures that were visually inviting and filled with human interest. They offered an imaginative escape for those unable to travel. As the man himself wrote:

[My] drawings present completely true-to-life landscapes to give people just a moment of pleasure without the inconvenience of a long journey.

Landscapes and meisho (famous places) were a safe subject for publishers during the early 1840s, a period of severe censorship.

Evening View of the Eight Scenic Spots of Kanazawa in Musashi Province, 1857 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh

The Eastern Coast Road

But the exhibition focuses on a couple of famous roads in particular. The 500-kilometre-long Tōkaidō (Eastern Coast Road) connected Edo (present-day Tokyo) in the east with Kyoto, the emperor’s capital, in the west. It was the most travelled highway in Japan. There’s a big map of the route of the road(s) on the wall which, like a numpty, I forgot to take a photo of.

The fifty-three post stations along its route provided travellers with places to rest and stock up on supplies. Accommodation ranged from simple guest houses to luxury inns reserved for daimyō (samurai lords). From around 1833 until the end of his life, Hiroshige designed more than 20 series of prints on the Tōkaidō, about 700 works in total.

Nihonbashi, ‘Morning Scene’, from the 53 Stations of the Tōkaidō, c. 1833-35 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print © The Trustees of the British Museum

The Central Mountain Road

Later in the exhibition there’s a work from a series depicting a different rout. The Kisokaidō (Kiso highway, also called the Nakasendō or Central Mountain Road) took travellers on a difficult journey through the mountain ranges north-west of Edo, today called the Japanese Alps. It crossed some of Japan’s most awe-inspiring scenery. Steep passes and heart-stopping suspension bridges made it an adventurous route through sixty-nine stations connecting Kyoto and Edo.

Hiroshige depicted the highway in only one major series, which he took over from another artist. It’s represented by a really evocative depiction of a tiny road winding among snow-covered mountains.

Wherever he travelled Hiroshige took a sketchbook which he packed with sketches of different landscapes, and several of them are on display here.

Prolificness

Mention of the 700 works raises a key fact about Hiroshige which is his astonishing prolificness. Hiroshige was commissioned by publishers. The publishers published works in series. If a series was popular, more would be commissioned.

The point of these colour woodblock prints is they were designed to be cheap, affordable, and popular, in subject matter and format. Late in the show they tell us about scientific forensic work which has been done on Hiroshige’s surviving woodblocks and so we think that his most popular designs may have been printed up to 15,000 times before the woodblocks wore down completely.

Throughout his life Hiroshige returned to depictions of Edo, capital of the Tokugawa government during the Edo period (1615 to 1868). He did so in more than 150 print series, including ‘One Hundred Famous Views of Edo’ which covered every neighbourhood, including areas that were not especially famous.

The mass-production of these colour woodblock prints during the Edo period met the demand from an expanding audience for inexpensive art and meant that ordinary people could buy beautifully made but disposable prints for a few pennies.

Print production began with the publisher, who hired the artist, block cutter and printer. Hiroshige worked for around 90 publishers! In a competitive business environment Japanese publishers needed to cultivate as wide an audience as possible. They may have issued variant designs of a single work as a way of appealing to different tastes, which explains the samples here of the same basic design (of a pheasant, say) being reversioned to appear as if in spring, summer and winter, by changing details of the design (adding snow for winter etc).

All this explains why the complete catalogue of Hiroshige’s work amounts to some 5,000 designs for colour woodblock prints, as well as hundreds of paintings and dozens of illustrated books.

Uchiwa (fans)

In Edo-period Japan, warm weather brought a demand for inexpensive, hand-held fans that people could use and enjoy for a season and then discard. A popular type was the uchiwa, an oval fan on fixed ribs with a handle. Unlike folding fans (ōgi), uchiwa are non-collapsible and so allow woodblock prints to be pasted onto their rigid bamboo frame. Uchiwa fan prints were disposable and only a few examples of each design survive.

Several examples are here along with depictions of them in works by Hiroshige and contemporaries, with a copy of a book of stories based on different types of fan by Hishikawa Moronobu.

Modern specialists in ukiyo-e (Edo-period popular prints) have counted every known uchiwa design by Hiroshige and concluded that he produced well over 500, far more than any other artist. The subjects range from rustic and urban scenes to still life.

The exhibition doesn’t have any fans decorated by him, but examples of his works which depict fan-bearing geishas, along with a very big portrait-shaped depiction of a young geisha with an older woman carrying different types of fan, by Kitagawa Tsukimaro.

Kachō hanga (prints of birds and flowers)

Hiroshige’s depictions of nature, especially his kachō hanga (prints of birds and flowers), show his intuitive bond with the natural world. Many include a Japanese or Chinese poem inscribed in flowing calligraphy, reflecting the connection between nature and poetry in Japanese culture and the high level of literacy at the time. Hiroshige’s kachō hanga contributed to a sudden flourishing of the genre in Japan from the 1830s and furthered the artist’s popularity.

Crane and asters, Three geese and full moon, Pheasant and chrysanthemums by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock prints. Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum Centre © Alan Medaugh. Photograph by Matsuba Ryōko

This section was, for me, the most appealing. There are lots of works depicting a wide range of birds, plants and trees, including wonderful depictions of an owl, mandarin duck, cuckoo, parakeet, cockerel, Eurasian jay, heron, wagtail, kingfisher, falcon, pheasant, tit, oriole, you get the picture.

Also, there’s sound. The curators commissioned a 25-minute long audio track combining the sound of streams, waterfalls, rainfall and animals, including birds and crickets.

One of the most striking images is from late in his career when he experimented with putting objects in the foreground so that they dominate the image, and did so with an enormous carp.

An enormous black carp appears to leap into the air high above the samurai neighbourhood of Surugadai in Edo. In popular East Asian belief, if a carp reaches the top of a waterfall it turns into a dragon, symbolising hard work leading to success. People in Edo displayed koi-nobori (carp banners) like this during the Boys’ Day Festival (5th day of the 5th month, now called Children’s Day).

Bijin

After his attention shifted to landscapes in the early 1830s, Hiroshige did not return to depicting bijin (beautiful women) for more than a decade. As government censorship restrictions started to ease in the late 1840s, he began designing bijin triptychs, depicting women beautifully dressed in kimonos which are depicting in loving and yet always stylised detail.

Cherry Blossoms on a Moonless Night along the Sumida River (1847-8) by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum © Alan Medaugh. Photograph by Matsuba Ryōko

Videos and tools

The exhibition includes three or four videos showing modern craftsmen demonstrating the techniques of woodcarving, and painting, which Hiroshige used in his prints.

  • the artist Hiroko Imada demonstrates the bokashi (gradation) woodblock printing technique – this is an effect achieved in the printing process by the controlled application of ink to the woodblock
  • extracts from a film by the artist Kawase Hasui (1883–1957) showing him cutting the omohan or key block
  • Capucine Korenberg, scientist at the British Museum, discusses her work on the different versions of Hiroshige’s Plum Garden at Kameido prints

And, of course, display cases containing tools of the trade, woodblock-cutting tools like a mallet and chisel, an omohan or key or outline block, a baren or printer’s pad, and explaining the techniques

  • kimedashi or relief printing
  • musenzuri or contourless printing
  • kasanezuri or over-printing

Hiroshige’s influence in the West

In the late nineteenth century there was a vogue in Europe and America for Japanese prints, fashions and designs on vases, tea services etc which goes under the name of Japonisme. It was fed by the opening up of Japan to trade in the 1850s which led to the rapid dissemination of Japanese products in the West.

The exhibition has a modest section describing some highlights of this. Most notable are two big names from the end of the century, Vincent van Gogh and James McNeil Whistler.

In a fascinating little section, we are shown an original Hiroshige print – The Plum Garden at Kameido, 1857 – and told that Vincent van Gogh bought a copy around 1887 and then meticulously traced it onto a numbered grid which he used to enlarge the composition to scale onto the canvas for his oil copy, with van Gogh’s numbered grid placed net to it.

In fact Van Gogh and his brother Theo purchased over 400 Japanese colour woodblock prints and Vincent copied a number of them. Further along the wall is a large-scale sketch of ‘The Countryside along the Shore of the Rhône’ in which he consciously tried to adopt the Japanese approach to landscape, seeking harmony of composition over photographic realism.

The Whistler connection is less dramatic: American artist and educator Arthur Wesley Dow published a book which included examples of Hiroshige prints next to reproductions of works by Whistler to show the influence, namely abandoning the quest for photographic realism in an effort to create atmospheric compositions.

A bit more tenuously there’s a not very good 1895 print by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec titled The Passenger in 54 which may, or may not, have been influenced by Hiroshige’s strategy of placing the subject in the foreground so as to eclipse the background setting. This is the kind of thing we’re referring to where, pretty obviously, the tree is the focal point of the image, with the people in the background utterly eclipsed.

The Plum Garden at Kameido from 100 Famous Views of Edo, 1857 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Modern homages

This final section brings together a dozen or so artworks by contemporary artists which pay homage one way or another to Hiroshige’s achievement. They include:

  • Julian Opie who produced a set of lenticular prints of the landscape around Mount Fuji (2009)
  • Koya Abe who digitally altered Hiroshige’s print Seba to convey the destruction caused by the Great Tōhoku Earthquake on 11 March 2011
  • Emily Allchurch who has digitally collaged hundreds of her photographs of Japan to create new interpretations of Hiroshige in Tokyo Story
  • Noda Tetsuya who noticed the similarity between the view from Tate Modern looking down on the Thames and Millennium Bridge and Hiroshige’s print, ‘Sudden Shower over Ōhashi and Atake’ and so did a Hiroshige-style treatment of the London view, titled Diary: Feb. 23rd

Thoughts

Magic. ‘Luxury, peace, and pleasure’ Japanese style. Go and see it.


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Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printmaking @ Dulwich Picture Gallery

This is a lovely exhibition full of really lovely and enjoyable images. Often you have to work a bit in an art gallery, especially with modern art, but most of the images here are delightfully easy to process and enjoy. It’s like being in a high quality ice cream parlour and faced with an embarrassment of riches.

Kumoi Cherry Trees by Yoshida Hiroshi (1926) Courtesy Fukuoka Art Museum

The show brings together artworks by three generations of just one extraordinary family, the Yoshida family from Japan who have each worked in the Japanese tradition of woodblock print art.

The father, Yoshida Hiroshi, was a leading creator of prints from the 1920s. He is represented by one room full of wonderful prints. His wife, Yoshida Fujio, was a renowned watercolourist, painter and printmaker in her own right, and is represented by six big lovely prints of flowers.

They had two sons who followed them into the family business, Tōshi and Hodaka, but who each followed different artistic paths and engaged with American art of the 1950s and 1960s in different ways with different results.

Hodaka’s wife, Yoshida Chizuko, was also an artist, co-founder of the first group of female printmakers in Japan, and is represented by works in her own right.

The fifth and final room is entirely filled by an installation by Hodaka and Chizuko’s daughter, Yoshida Ayomi, the third generation of this remarkable dynasty of artists, whose installation is closely modelled on one of the classic prints by her grandfather, which we saw in the first room.

The patriarch: Yoshida Hiroshi (1876 to 1950)

The first room is devoted to the life and career of Yoshida Hiroshi, one of Japan’s greatest artists. In  his early career he was successful as a Western-style painter. It was only at the age of 44 that he began designing woodblock prints.

He became a leading figure in the shin hanga movement which aimed to revive traditional ukiyo-e print subjects by combining them with Western principles, techniques and aesthetic choices, resulting in a unique fusion of styles. The movement was characterised by its emphasis on naturalistic and realistic depictions, in particular in the genre of landscapes.

Hiroshi was remarkably cosmopolitan and travelled the world in the 1920s and 30s. It was his trip across America which inspired some wonderful depictions of dramatic landscape such as mountains, the Grand Canyon and so on.

El Capitan by Yoshida Hiroshi (1925) Courtesy Fukuoka Art Museum

He not only travelled the Western world but exhibited and sold his woodblock prints, gaining an international reputation in the US and Europe.

In fact there turns out to be an amazing fact which is that Hiroshi visited Dulwich Picture Gallery, way back in 1900, when he was just 23, and the room of his works displays his signature in the Gallery’s visitor book. More than a coincidence, I wonder whether it’s been a long-running ambition of the gallery to bring together works by the great man.

Hiroshi worked by creating clear black outlines of the subject and then filling them in with washes of paint. In the small side room (the Mausoleum) off to one side of the series of rooms at Dulwich, they’re showing a short film featuring interviews with Japanese craftsmen who explain the incredible care Hiroshi took with his prints. He overlaid multiple blocks of the identical same subject, sometimes as many as 20 (!), each one designed to bring out a different aspect of the design or to print different colours over each other. This helps explain the tremendous sense of depth and resonance they have, an amazing subtlety of coloration which disappears in online reproductions.

Installation view of ‘Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printmaking’ at Dulwich Picture Gallery showing the video ‘Hiroshi Yoshida and his woodblock prints’ and the display case of wood print tools (photo by the author)

It also explains why he made many prints in pairs designed to convey different times of day, such as the morning and evening prints of the Acropolis in Athens (1925) or the Taj Mahal in India (1932), the Matterhorn in Switzerland (1925) or the Sphinx in Egypt (1925). The images of the Taj Mahal used fourteen blocks (!) and 55 impressions to create the desired gradation of colour or bokashi.

This video (nothing to do with the gallery) gives you a sense of the graphic accuracy, the use of distinct black outlines, but the tremendous subtlety of colour in his works.

The patriarch’s wife: Yoshida Fujio (1887 to 1987)

Yoshida Fujio was a renowned watercolourist, painter and printmaker but this is the first time any of her work has been exhibited in the UK. Fujio was married to Hiroshi and travelled with him across the USA and Europe, exhibiting her delicate watercolours of Japan to acclaim. Upon returning home in 1907, she took part in the first exhibition organised by the Japanese Academy of Arts. In 1918 she set co-founded the Shuyokai or Vermilion Leaf Society, the first association of female Japanese artists.

It was with the death of her husband, in 1950, that Fujio, inspired by the experiments of her sons with abstraction, returned to artistic practice after a 30-year gap and created an iconic series of woodblocks in flowers in the early 1950s. Six big examples are on display here. In their hyper close-up transformation of vibrant colours into semi-abstract designs, they are pretty much the opposite of her husband’s long shots of realistically captured landscapes. Apparently, she achieved the distinctive optical effects by placing the flowerheads in a fishbowl.

Yellow Iris by Yoshida Fujio (1954) Private Collection. Photograph by Mareo Suemasa

The eldest son: Yoshida Tōshi (1911 to 1995)

The eldest son, Tōshi, started off in his father’s footsteps, depicting landscapes and cityscapes with fine examples on display here. But when his father died, in 1950, he became head not only of the family but the family business, the Yoshida Studio, and began experimenting with abstract art. The result is landscapes which achieve an abstract monumental quality.

Unknown (Michi no) by Yoshida Toshi (1968) Private Collection. Photograph by Mareo Suemasa

He was responsible for maybe my favourite piece in the show, a 1964 abstract titled Abstruse. As usual an online reproduction can’t convey the shimmering and entrancing effect of the multiple layers of colour. I kept having to go back to look at it again and each time got drawn deeper and deeper.

The younger son: Yoshida Hodaka (1926 to 1995)

In a break from his family’s established style the younger son, Yoshida Hodaka, expanded upon traditional printmaking to incorporate collage and photoetching. Like his father and brother, foreign travels influenced his choice of motifs, but he was also inspired by Pop Art, Surrealism and Abstraction. Here’s a characteristic work from the 1950s where you can immediately see the influence of Western abstraction, and the curators point out the influence of Juan Miro and Paul Klee.

Profile of an Ancient Warrior by Yoshida Hodaka (1958) Courtesy Fukuoka Art Museum

In the 1960s there’s a little explosion of Pop Art with images from magazines (often of 1960s glamour models wearing bikinis) in collages and assemblies. By the 1980s he’s morphed again to create collages combining realistic images of buildings and streets, rather American-looking, with figures of people or animals pasted in front.

The son’s wife: Yoshida Chizuko (1924 to 2017)

Hodaka married Yoshida Chizuko, herself a noted artist and co-founder of the first group of female printmakers in Japan, the Women’s Print Association. Chizuko often depicted landscapes, nature, and traditional Japanese scenes but she, also, explored aspects of abstraction and repetition. Her works combine Abstract Expressionism and traditional Japanese printmaking.

Tenryuji Garden by Yoshida Chizuko (1953) Private Collection. Photograph by Mareo Suemasa

Some of her works reminded me of the covers of 1950s jazz albums I own, so I wasn’t surprised to see one of them is actually titled Jazz (1954). One of my favourite works in the whole show was the one titled Rain (1953) because it’s so evocative of that era and its design.

The grand-daughter: Yoshida Ayomi (born 1958)

The youngest member of the Yoshida printmaking family is Yoshida Ayomi, Hodaka and Chizuko’s daughter. Her practice combines traditional Japanese printmaking techniques with modern elements, often utilising organic materials.

The final room in the exhibition hosts a site-specific installation created especially for the exhibition. It is titled ‘Transient beauty’ and completely covers three walls of the final room. On the right-hand wall the outline of the cherry trees exactly match the trees seen in the Yoshida Hiroshi print in the first room, ‘Kumoi Cherry Trees’ (1926). Just about 100 years later his granddaughter has lightly drawn the outline onto grey canvas and then stuck onto it hundreds and hundreds tiny pink petals made from fabric. These stray across onto the middle wall which has a completely different vibe. Rather than one complete piece of cloth as the grey wall is, the middle one is a set of 30 or so square wooden panels, and instead of being lightly painted onto it, as per the grey wall, here the outlines have been strongly graved into the wood, maybe a reference to the wood carving tradition of her family.

Installation view of ‘Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printmaking’ at Dulwich Picture Gallery showing two of the three walls which make up ‘Transient beauty’ by Yoshida Ayomi (2024) (photo by the author)

The left-hand wall was my favourite, although I only have this bad photo I took of it. I think I liked it because there was more going on: at the top the black silhouette of winter branches was, for me, far more evocative than the sketchy outlines of the trees on the right. I think most of the space is intended to convey a rainy sky with variegated stormclouds, but I read it as the surface of a pond or lake with shadows and light playing across it and dappled by a million tiny splashes of stormy raindrops. There was more to look at and enjoy in this wall-sized image than the other two.

Installation view of ‘Yoshida: Three Generations of Japanese Printmaking’ at Dulwich Picture Gallery showing part of the middle and most of the left-hand wall of ‘Transient beauty’ by Yoshida Ayomi (2024) (photo by the author)

Video

DPG have released a video showing the speeded-up creation of the installation.

Thoughts

What an amazing family! What an imaginative world their works create and what a journey you go on as you walk through them. The majority of works by Yoshida Hiroshi are on loan from the Fukuoka Art Museum in Japan and are travelling to the UK for the first and maybe only time. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Treat yourself.


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The Beardsley Generation @ the Heath Robinson Museum

This small but entrancing exhibition explores the impact that a radical new photographic means of reproduction (process engraving) had on the art of illustration at the end of the 19th century.

Through 50 or so drawings and 20 or so illustrated books and magazines, the exhibition brings together a treasure trove of images from what many consider the golden age of illustration which lasted from around 1890 to the early 1900s.

The Pilgrim stretched both of his hands up towards Heaven by Charles Robinson (1900)

The Pilgrim stretched both of his hands up towards Heaven by Charles Robinson (1900)

Informative

As always the exhibition is in just the one room at the Heath Robinson Museum and looks small, but there are now fewer than 20 wall panels, some quite lengthy and packed with technical, historical and biographical information, so that reading all of them almost feels like reading a small book.

A brief history of Victorian illustration techniques

In the early Victorian era, book illustrations were mostly produced from steel engravings. Artists such as George Cruikshank (some of whose prints I was looking at earlier this week, in the Guildhall Art Gallery) and Hablot Browne were expert at etching on steel. However the process was expensive, requiring the illustrations to be printed on different paper separate from the text and then bound in with the rest of the book.

By the 1850s publishers preferred to use wood engravings, with the result that master wood-engravers developed large workshops which employed many engravers. The artist presented his picture on paper or on a whitened woodblock and would hand it over to the skilled engraver. The engraver then converted the picture into a woodcut, carving away the areas that were to appear white on the final print, leaving the raised lines which would take the ink, be applied to paper, and produce the print.

Thus the engraver played a major role in interpreting the artist’s work, sketch or intention, often superimposing his own character and style on the image.

Still, it did mean you could make illustrations without having to be a skilled etcher and among the first artists to take advantage of the new medium were the pre-Raphaelites, led by Dante Gabriel Rossetti and John Everett Millais.

They were followed by a second school of artists, sometimes called the ‘Idyllic School’, which included G.J. Pinwell and Arthur Boyd Houghton, who infused their essentially realistic works with intensity and emotion.

Job's Comforters by Arthur Boyd Houghton (c.1865)

Job’s Comforters by Arthur Boyd Houghton (c.1865)

There followed in the 1870s and ’80s what the curators call ‘a period of dull realism’ which is not dwelt on. It was at the end of the 1880s that the technical innovation which the exhibition is concerned with came in, and transformed the look of British illustrations.

Process engraving

In the late 1880s process engraving replaced wood engraving. An artist’s drawing was transferred to a sheet of zinc so that areas to be printed in black were given an acid-resistant coating and white areas left exposed. The plate was then dipped in acid so that the white areas were eaten away. The plate was then attached to a block of wood which could be inserted into the block holding the type, so that illustration and text were generated together by the same printing process.

This new process required that the artist’s image be in pure blacks and whites without the kind of fine lines which had flourished in etching on steel or in wood engraving. Moreover, the artist could be confident that the line he drew would be exactly what would be presented to the reader, without the involvement of a wood engraver to enhance or (possibly) detract from it.

At a stroke, the older generation of artists who had relied on master wood-engravers to work up their rough sketches for publication was swept away and replaced by a new young generation of penmen who relished the clarity of line and space encouraged by the new technique.

The most dramatic proponent of the new look, who exploded onto the art scene like a small atom bomb, was Aubrey Beardsley (b.1872)

How La Beale Isoud Wrote to Sir Tristram from the Morte d'Arthur by Aubrey Beardsley (1892)

How La Beale Isoud Wrote to Sir Tristram from the Morte d’Arthur by Aubrey Beardsley (1892)

Beardsley was an illustrator of genius who had created an entirely new and personal visual world by the incredibly young age of 20. There are four prints and two drawings by him here, plus three book covers and books laid open to show his illustrations in situ. What a genius.

Having explained this major new development in print technology, the exhibition also explains several other influences which were swirling round at the time and contributed to the development of the ‘new look’. These included:

  • Japanese art
  • European Symbolism
  • Venetian and Renaissance art
  • with a dash of Dürer thrown in

Japanese

After the Harris Treaty of 1858 reopened trade links between the West and Japan, one of the many consequences was a flood onto the Western art market of Japanese woodblock prints.

Known in Japan as ukiyo-e or ‘pictures of the floating world’, the Japanese style was notable for not using perspective to add depth, or light and shade to create a sense of volume and space in the images. Instead the Japanese used ‘dramatic boundary lines’, i.e. clear, distinct, black lines – to create images – and then used colour, again not to create depth, but decoratively, filling in the shapes created by the lines with plain washes.

Japanese art had a profound influence on Western artists at a time when they were looking for ways to revive what had become tired traditions and to combat the rising challenge of photography.

Setting a Japanese print (in this case Nakamura Shikan II as Benkai by Utagawa Kunisada) next to the works by Beardsley allows you to immediately see the liberating impact that the Japanese habit of stylising the image has had for the European – allowing him to abandon almost all conventions of perspective and depth.

Actor Nakamura Utaemon Iii As Mitsugi’s Aunt Omine by Utagawa Kunisada (1814)

Beardsley’s best images float in an indeterminate space, bounded by extremely precise and clear lines which give his best images a wonderful clarity and dynamism. But Beardsley wasn’t alone. A greater or lesser element of simplification and stylisation characterises most of the artists working in the ‘new look’.

The last fancy of the contemporary buck for Pall Mall magazine by Edmund J. Sullivan (1900)

The last fancy of the contemporary buck for Pall Mall magazine by Edmund J. Sullivan (1900)

Symbolism

Symbolism was an art movement which swept northern Europe in the 1880s and, although its techniques remained largely realistic, in some case hyper-realistic, it applied these approaches to subject matter which was infused with obscure and semi-religious feelings.

Symbolism took images of death, yearning, loss and mystery, and showed them, no longer in the bright light of nineteenth century rationalism and optimism, but brooded over by a more modern sensibility and psychology. A drawing of Salomé by Gustave Moreau is used to exemplify the Symbolist effect.

Its influence can be seen in an illustration like this one by Charles Ricketts, which takes the well-worn subject of Oedipus and the Sphinx but drenches it in arcane symbolism – inexplicable figures and flowers adding to the sensual, erotic yet mysterious atmosphere.

Oedipus and the Sphinx (1891) by Charles Ricketts

Oedipus and the Sphinx (1891) by Charles Ricketts

Hypnerotomachia Poliphili

The exhibition lists and explores other influences including the impact of a classic printed book from Venice titled Hypnerotomachia Poliphili or The Strife of Love in a Dream, published by Albertus Manutius in 1499, and regarded as a masterpiece of typography and design by collectors.

A Garden Scene from 'Hypnerotomachia Poliphili' attributed to Francesco Colonna (c.1499)

A Garden Scene from ‘Hypnerotomachia Poliphili’ attributed to Francesco Colonna (c.1499)

Copies of Hypnerotomachia Poliphili became available in England in 1888 and influenced Edward Burne-Jones, Walter Crane, Charles Ricketts, Aubrey Beardsley and Robert Anning Bell.

List of artists in the exhibitions

The exhibition includes works by all of those illustrators and more. I counted:

  • Aubrey Beardsley – 4 prints, 2 drawings and three book and magazine covers or pages
  • Alice B. Woodward – 2 drawings
  • Louis Fairfax Muckley – 1
  • Herbert Granville Fell – 2 drawings and a watercolour
  • Alfred Garth Jones – 2
  • Thomas Sturge Moore – 1
  • Laurence Housman – 5
  • Charles de Sousy Ricketts – 2
  • Paul Vincent Woodroffe – 1
  • H.A. Eves – 1
  • Harold Edward Hughes Nelson – 1
  • Byam Shaw – 1
  • Edgar Wilson – 1
  • Cyril Goldie – 1
  • Henry Ospovat – 1
  • Robert Anning Bell – 2
  • Philip Connard – 1
  • Jessie Marion King – 3
  • James Joshua Guthrie – 2
  • Edmund Joseph Sullivan – 2
  • Charles Robinson – 3
  • William Heath Robinson – 3
  • Arthur Boyd Houghton – 1
  • Walter Crane – 1

Books on display

  • Le Morte d’Arthur illustrated by Beardsley
  • Midsummer Night’s Dream ill. by Robert Anning Bell
  • The Kelmscott Chaucer ill. by Burne-Jones
  • Poems of Edgar Allen Poe ill. by William Heath Robinson
  • Poems of John Keats ill. by Robert Anning Bell
  • Poems of John Milton ill. by Garth Jones
  • The Faerie Queene ill. by Walter Crane
  • plus illustrated versions of Shakespeare’s Sonnets, the Book of Job, the Yellow Book, and more

All the works were worth looking at closely, studying and mulling in order to enjoy the play of line and form. Many of the prints are wonderfully drawn and warmly evocative. Every one is accompanied by a wall label, and the twelve or so most important artists merit bigger wall labels which give you their full biography along with influences and major works to set them in context.

These biographical notes help you to make connections between different artists linked by having a common publisher, or working on a common publication or magazine, or who knew each other and encouraged, helped or shared ideas. The exhibition really does give you a sense of an entire generation excitedly inventing a whole new style of art.

Nostalgia

I think at least in part I respond so warmly to so many of the images is because, as a boy growing up in the 1960s, lots of the old books in my local library and the children’s books which my parents bought for me, contained just this kind of late-Victorian / Edwardian illustrations.

Looking at almost any of them creates a warm bath of half-forgotten memories of curling up in a corner and totally immersing myself in thrilling stories of Greek heroes and mermaids and pirates and pilgrims.

Tailpiece by Edgar Wilson (date unknown)

Tailpiece by Edgar Wilson (date unknown)

This is another wonderful, heart-warming and highly informative exhibition from the Heath Robinson Museum.


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