The British Museum showcases Utagawa Hiroshige’s stunning prints highlighting his enduring impact on art, particularly French Impressionism. While the exhibit delights in his vibrant depictions of fleeting moments and pleasures of life, the final section feels rushed, missing the depth needed to fully explore his ongoing influence. Hiroshige’s vibrant use of colour and philosophy of enjoying life’s moments offers valuable insights for both historical and modern audiences.
The British Museum’s exhibit on Utagawa Hiroshige immerses visitors in the vivid, vibrant prints of this early 19th-century Japanese artist. While the first sections celebrate his mastery, the final portion feels slightly shallow. It attempts to showcase Hiroshige’s ongoing influence with a rushed sampling of those who followed in his footsteps, a task that might demand a complete exhibition, rather than just an epilogue.
One can’t help but notice how closely French Impressionism mirrors Hiroshige’s work. For instance, his depiction of rain as a chance for joy paved the way for Renoir’s The Umbrellas. Hiroshige’s 1830s print, Tarui, turns rain into an opportunity for fun. Similarly, Monet’s fascination with snow traces back to Hiroshige’s Snow-viewing Along the Sumida River, crafted between 1832 and 1834.
The exhibition reveals that the Impressionists were influenced by more than just Hiroshige’s imagery; they adopted a whole philosophy. His artwork captures hedonism—the joy of living in the moment. In Snow-viewing, a family enjoys snowy weather in Edo (now Tokyo), finding pleasure rather than hardship in the cold. This carefree spirit that Hiroshige embodied became a central tenet for early European modernists.
Hiroshige’s artistry is about transient moments. One print depicts a man bidding farewell to a friend in a sex district at dawn, while another shows two women observing a companion heading for a bath. These snapshots of fleeting feelings can captivate the viewer for hours—beautiful expressions and flowing fabrics telling endless stories.
His depictions are timeless, relatable even in today’s bustling cities like London or Newcastle. Far from a modern concept, his depiction of gatherings at pop-up restaurants, such as in Enjoying the Evening Cool Along the Shijo Riverbed, features joyous diners enjoying a moment together. It’s reminiscent of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party or Manet’s Luncheon on the Grass, showing how human experiences transcend time.
Hiroshige lived in a different era, born in 1797 during the isolationist Tokugawa shogunate, a period that restricted foreign contact. An 1830s triptych shows a unique Samurai procession, predominantly featuring brides on their way to elite marriages—a fascinating twist on tradition. His 1851 print of fun-loving pilgrims reflects a Chaucerian flavour, with vibrant colours and lively poses highlighting the humanness in their journey to a mountain shrine.
What sets Hiroshige apart is his exuberant use of colour—sapphire seas, fiery skies, and rich kimonos soaking in cosmic hues that convey a sense of nirvana. His pleasure gardens, teahouses, and social gatherings glow with energy, making them feel alive. It’s a kaleidoscopic adventure for the senses, with every detail enhanced by his vivid palette.
Vincent Van Gogh was one of Hiroshige’s biggest admirers. The exhibit showcases two versions of The Plum Garden, which Van Gogh emulated, with differences in sky colours that resemble stained plum juice. His painstaking drawings show a dedication to capturing the essence and joy found in Hiroshige’s art, reflecting a deep connection that transcends time and culture.
The British Museum’s exhibit on Utagawa Hiroshige provides a vibrant glimpse into his world and the far-reaching influence of his work. Despite a hasty final section, the display makes it clear that Hiroshige’s celebration of fleeting moments and dazzling colours resonates with artists across time, especially within the French Impressionist movement. Ultimately, his vision offers a joyful perspective on life that continues to inspire.
Original Source: www.theguardian.com