- 15 Mar 2002
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The article Ukiyo-e: Japanese woodblock prints and paintings has been updated:
Several corrections and edits.
Several corrections and edits.
Rorschach test? I really like it.Not sure whether to slide these in here or Japan Photos--went to an exhibit today, 墨汁画. These are a few I liked (my preference is for things more abstract):
I'm not sure what this one is, but it's fantastic:
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浮世絵 月岡芳年「近世侠義傅 夏目新助」無残絵 魁斎芳年画 小川煙村編 UKIYOE 木版画 歴史資料 風俗絵巻図画刊行会錦絵部 挿絵.
In 1865, the renowned ukiyo-e artist Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (月岡芳年, 1839‑1892) created a striking woodblock print titled "Kinsei Kyōgiden: Natsume Shinsuke" (近世侠義伝 夏目信助), which forms part of his series Biographies of Modern Heroes. This work portrays Natsume Shinsuke, a legendary figure from Edo-period chivalric lore, embodying the virtues of bravery and righteousness that fascinated late-Edo and early-Meiji audiences. Carved during the first year of the Keiō era (1865), the print continues the tradition of warrior hero portraits popularised since the 14th century, yet introduces a fresh realism and emotional intensity characteristic of Yoshitoshi's mature style. This striking ōban nishiki-e (large-format colour print) captures its subject mid-gesture, reflecting both personal heroism and the era's collective yearning for honour amidst societal change.
Ah, so I take it you agreed with the Taliban when they destroyed the giant Bamiyan Buddha statues? (Just in case it's not clear, I'm being sarcastic.)Well I don't agree with gambling in any form. I shall burn the print immediately!
I wish were destroyed. That was a crime beyond reproach.Ah, so I take it you agreed with the Taliban when they destroyed the giant Bamiyan Buddha statues? (Just in case it's not clear, I'm being sarcastic.)
It was another lively afternoon in Ryōgoku, the energetic heart of Tokyo nestled beside the Sumida River—a place known as much for sumō as for its food markets, galleries, and backstreet eateries. The streets were buzzing, full of tourists soaking up the sights and smells, the clatter of geta sandals mixing with the chatter of shoppers and stallholders. At one corner of a local fish market, a slightly harried fishmonger was doing his best to keep up with the pace when, in a sudden flurry of bad luck, two live unagi (鰻)—long, slippery eels—slipped from his grasp and flopped unceremoniously onto the ground. One immediately made a break for it, wriggling toward a nearby woman who had been minding her own business. She let out a yelp and half-hopped, half-danced backwards, nearly losing one of her wooden sandals in the process. The eel, undeterred, continued its undignified advance. The fishmonger, mortified, lunged forward in a panic to catch it. At the same time, the woman stood frozen in horrified disbelief, caught somewhere between disgust and self-preservation. It was over in a flash, but not before half the market had turned to watch. Eyes followed the two of them—one flushed red from embarrassment, the other apologising profusely as he finally scooped up the fugitive eel. For the woman, the ordeal had left its mark: she was rattled, but not defeated. Gathering what composure she could, she glanced coolly at the two eels now safely behind the counter, gave the fishmonger a look that said, "Why not?" and bought them both on the spot. Sometimes, dignity is best restored with a firm grip and a hot grill. That night, she made unagi no kabayaki—grilled eel glazed with sweet soy sauce. After all, if life hands you eels, you might as well make dinner.