Utamaro. Edmond de Goncourt
Читать онлайн книгу.
poetry, which had more liberal themes and more flexible rules than traditional poetry, and which was meant to be humorous. These collections of kyōka* were lavishly illustrated by Utamaro. His collaboration with Tsutaya Jūzaburō, whose principal artist he soon became, marked the beginning of Utamaro’s fame. Around 1791, he left book illustration to concentrate entirely on women’s portraits. He chose his models in the pleasure districts of Edo, where he is reputed to have had many adventures with his muses. By day, he devoted himself to his art and by night, he succumbed to the fatal charm of this brilliant “underworld”, until the time when, seduced by the “tiny steps and hand gestures”, his art undermined by excess, he “lost his life, his name and his reputation”.
But, make no mistake, the Yoshiwara* has nothing in common with western houses of prostitution. It was, in the eighteenth century especially, a garden of delights. In it one paid an elaborate court to prostitutes of great charm, versed in letters and in the rituals of the most exquisite etiquette. Eros assuming the figure of love. Utamaro had no trouble gathering all the elements of his work in “the green houses”, of which he was the recognised painter. For many connoisseurs of Japanese prints, Utamaro is the undisputed master of the representation of women, whom he idealises and whom he depicts as tall and slim, with a long necks and delicate shoulders, a far cry from the real appearance of the women of the time.
In terms of style it was around 1790 that Utamaro took his place as the leader of Ukiyo-e*. This style captivated the Japanese public from the very beginning. Its spread was the product of the time of Edo, that is to say, a great renaissance of middle-class inspiration, which flourished in the midst of a civilisation brilliantly developed by the aristocracy, the military, and the clergy. However, in the early years of the nineteenth century, Utamaro’s talent and his incessant production began to lose originality. The artist grew old along with the man. He who had been so opposed to the representation of theatrical themes, goaded by the success of Toyokuni, who was beginning to become his rival, began to deal with subjects taken from plays, and he produced several mitiyuki*. In these compositions, as well as in others, the elongated women, those slender creatures of his early period, put on weight and become rounder and thicker. The feminine silhouettes became heavy, yet still without the fatness found in Torii Kiyonaga (1752–1815). Against the women, who had filled his first works alone, he juxtaposed male figures who were comical, grotesque caricatures. The artist no longer wished to please through that ideal gentility with which he had adorned his women. He forced himself, by the presence of these “ugly men”, to flatter the public of the time, whose taste was compared by Hayashi Tadamasa to the taste of certain collectors of modern ivories from Yokohama who, as he says, “prefer grimace to art”, more interested in the drollness rather than the true beauty of the image.
Gun’ Prostitute (Teppō), from the series “Five Shades of Ink in the Northern Quarter” (Hokkoku goshiki-zumi), 1794–1795.
Ōban, nishiki-e, 37.9 × 24.2 cm.
Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.
The Style of a Feudal Lord’s Household (Yashiki-fū), from the series “Guide to Contemporary Styles” (Tōsei fūzoku tsū), c. 1800–1801. Ōban, nishiki-e, 37.5 × 25.5 cm. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.
Hanamurasaki of the Tamaya, [kamuro: ] Sekiya, Teriha (Tamay uchi Hanamurasaki), from the series “Array of Supreme Beauties of the Present Day” (Tōji zensei bijin-zoroe), 1794. Ōban, nishiki-e, 54 × 41.5 cm.
Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.
Takashima Ohisa (Takashima Ohisa), 1793.
Ōban, nishiki-e, 37.7 × 24.4 cm.
Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.
Obvious Love (Arawaru koi), from the series “Anthology of Poems: The Love Section” (Kasen koi no bu), 1793–1794. Ōban, nishiki-e, 37.5 × 25 cm.
Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.
“Love for a Farmer’s Wife” (Nōfu ni yosuru koi), c. 1795–1796.
Ōban, nishiki-e, 36.9 × 24.5 cm. Huguette Berès Collection.
“Love for a Street-Walker” (Tsuji-gimi ni yosuru koi), c. 1795–1796. Ōban, nishiki-e, 36.2 × 24.6 cm.
Huguette Berès Collection.
Takashima Ohisa (Takashima Ohisa), 1795.
Ōban, nishiki-e, 36.1 × 23.8 cm.
Musée national des Arts asiatiques – Guimet, Paris.
Utamaro was not afraid to caricature the saints and the sages of the sacred legends of Buddhism, using the exaggerated features of famous courtesans. Banking on his immense popularity, he published a satire with images of a famous shogun, Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536–1598) with his wife and five concubines. But this act of lèse-majesté led to his disgrace with the sovereign, who was very interested in the arts. The work was considered to be an insult against the shogunate; Utamaro was arrested for violation of the laws of censure and imprisoned. This experience was extremely humiliating for the artist. The jolly butterfly of the Yoshiwara* emerged from his cell, exhausted and broken, no longer daring to put forth even the slightest audacity. He died in Edo, probably in 1806, on the third day of the fifth month of the lunar calendar. In the old copies of the Ukiyo-e ruikō (Story of the Prints of the Floating World), the date of Utamaro’s death is incorrect. The artist cannot have died on the eighth day of the twelfth month of the fourth year of the Kansei era (1792) since certain prints were still coming out in the beginning of the nineteenth century. The Yoshiwara Picture Book: Annual Events, or Annals of the Green Houses (Illustrations 1, 2, 3, 4) was published in 1804, and the plate representing a Japanese Olympus is dated on the first day of 1805.
The true inspirations for the manner and style of Utamaro were Kitao Shigemasa (1739–1820) and Torii Kiyonaga. From the latter Utamaro took the graceful elongation of the oval of his women’s faces, a bit of the lazy softness at their waists, of the voluptuous undulation of fabrics around their bodies. This borrowing from Kiyonaga’s drawing style is immediately obvious in two prints. One shows a teahouse by the sea, with a woman bringing his outer cloak, black with coats of arms, to a Japanese nobleman taking tea. A composition, which, were it not signed Utamaro, would be mistaken by any Japanese collector for a Kiyonaga. It must have been done in the Kiyonaga atelier between 1770 and 1775, at a time when the painter was barely twenty years old. The other shows a tall woman in a dress covered with cherry blossoms on a red background, to whom a figurine of wrestlers is being brought; it would date from 1775 at the latest. This relationship is also found in the six stunning prints of geishas celebrating the Niwaka*, the Yoshiwara* carnival, the first printing of which probably dates from 1775. These prints, even though more personal, are marked by the powerful style and the slightly Juno-esque proportions given to his women by the master of Utamaro, who had himself borrowed some of Kiyonaga’s details such as the pretty, dishevelled kiss curls around the temples or the cheeks, which bring such a loving aspect to the faces.
Beautiful Bouquet of Irises. The Courtesan Hitimoto.
Ōban, nishiki-e, 37.5 × 25.5 cm.
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.
The Fancy-free Type (Uwaki no sō), from the series “Ten Types in the Physiognomic Study of Women” (Fūjin sōgaku juttai), c. 1792–1793. Ōban, nishiki-e, 36.4 × 24.5 cm. The New York Public Library, New York.
While