stones, conveys the majesty of the stronghold and the esteem the artist felt for this remnant of the colorful samurai past. It is a quiet but masterful print.
Plate 7
Mabuchi Toru (who often spelled his given name Thoru), another of Hiratsuka's students, was also influenced toward things Japanese by his mentor. However, although he used the woodblock medium, his subjects were presented in a form resembling mosaic and pointillist imagery, inspired by his longtime interest in the art of Byzantium and of the French painter Seurat. His work From the Earth depicts five haniwa that somehow look rather decorative because of the Byzantine coloring and rhythmic design.
5. Hiratsuka Un'ichi (b. 1895). Titled on the reverse in Japanese Uchi Kongō Hyokunji (Inner Precinct of Hyokun Temple), unnumbered, undated, woodblock, 52.5x44 cm. Signed Un-ichi Hiratsuka, sealed on the image in kanji Un, printed in the right margin in kanji Hiratsuka Un'ichi.
6. Hashimoto Okiie (1899-1993). Titled in Japanese Taka-ishigaki to Tenshu (Osaka-jō) (High Stone Wall and Castle Stronghold [Osaka Castle]), 10/30, 1956, woodblock, 39.3x54.2 cm. Signed Okiie Hashimoto, sealed on the image Hashi, in the right margin in kanji Hashimoto Okiie saku (made by Hashimoto Okiie).
7. Mabuchi Toru (1920-94). Titled in Japanese Shutsu-do (From the Earth), 11 /50, 1961, woodblock, 56x41 cm. Signed on the image Toru Mabuchi, sealed on the image in kanji Toru.
As was the case with many who set out to collect the sōsaku-hanga prints, the works we were particularly fond of were all woodblocks. At that time those prints were the ones that held the most appeal probably because of subject matter. We did not even think particularly about their being woodblock prints; the themes were unfamiliar and captivating and that was their charm for us and for others. Perhaps that charm was a product of our initial response to the wonders of geisha, stylized gardens, Buddhist statues and temples, Shinto shrines, castles, and haniwa. All represented the eternal charisma of Japan, and these pioneer artists strongly felt an awareness of their roots in their chosen subject matter, even though they were leaning toward Western perspective and Modes of creating in executing their works.
About this time we parted, though only briefly, from the conventional woodblock and entered the inviting worlds of Mori Yoshitoshi's kappazuri (stencil prints), of Fukazawa Shiro's silk-screen prints, and of Ouchi Makoto's etchings. These artists also used traditional subjects like the Kabuki theater, legendary figures, folklore, or street markets, but the media employed were different and the subject matter was not quite so realistic. We embarked on an imaginative, thought-provoking journey not only because of the artists' creativity but also because we began to be aware of the different effects that could be achieved on paper with different printing methods. The subtle changes from realism to fanciful ideas and stories from the complicated repertoire of the Kabuki theater also intrigued us. Kabuki provided an inexhaustible source of inspiration for all three artists, and the addition of their prints contributed a new dimension to our collection.
After we met Mori Yoshitoshi, our collection grew by leaps and bounds. Mori seemed like a Japanese grandfather to us, and his passing at age 94 affected us deeply. Our various homes are filled with his works, which we number in the hundreds, and we never look at one of his masterpieces without recalling fondly the warmth and humor that he brought to every encounter. He was our Meiji-era connection and our oldest Japanese friend. During our long acquaintance he was responsible for much of the fun in our lives and enough earthy conversation to fill several books. Just as we became aware that our collection consisted only of woodblock prints he appeared on the scene as a stencil printmaker. Stencils had been used in Japan from time immemorial to produce designs for printing on textiles and Mori, in fact, had worked at this occupation for many years. He was more than 50 years old when he decided to carry this technique over to making works on paper.
Our friend Henry Steiner, a graphic designer whom we met in Hong Kong during our diplomatic posting there, had been much earlier enraptured by Mori's prints and suggested that we call on him in Tokyo when we were transferred, even providing a letter of introduction. We made the visit, unprepared for such a delight. But the greatest of all treats was to go to the Kabuki with Mori. This charming little man, whose entire life was bound up with the down-to-earth mores of Tokyo's shita-machi (the old downtown area), where his family had lived for generations, enjoyed with gusto the complex plots of the plays, appreciated the subtleties of the acting, and while not missing a beat of the story would sketch furiously all of the actors' dramatic poses (which he already knew by heart), while still finding time to clue us in on what was happening on stage. Later at his home and atelier, Mori would cut his stencils with breathtaking speed, defying not only the various laws of nature but also of common sense, since the very sharp tools that he used with such rapidity could easily have sliced off a finger.
Plate 8
His prints sometimes seem to border on caricature, conveying his innate spirit of fun. Kuruma-hiki, San Kyōdai (Three Brothers, Carriage Pullers [from the Kabuki play of that name]) is just the sort of humorous scene Mori loved. No amount of devilment was too much for him. He was a practical and canny son of old Edo, and loved wine, women, and song, especially women, whom he liked to draw in all their voluptuousness. Even at the age of 94 his head would turn if a curvaceous woman walked by, and his face would light up even more if she stopped to chat.
Another funster who smashed the stereotype that Japanese are staid and stolid, wear only dark-blue or gray suits, and have an inscrutable expression was Fulcazawa Shiro. He dressed like a Japanese gypsy might if there were any: a black velvet wide-brimmed hat with dangling red and yellow balls, holding in place a mane of wild white hair that had a tendency to blow in the breeze. He could always be found in an outrageously bright shirt and black leather pants, quite a novelty in the early 1970s, especially for a man of his age. Mary quite clearly remembers meeting him at the main intersection of the Ginza one day by prearranged appointment to attend a gallery opening. She noticed that they were given a wide berth by the various passersby.
Plate 9
Sharaku and I borrows from an early ukiyo-e master, again featuring a Kabuki-based theme. The purity of the silkscreen colors and the perfect technical execution were of interest to us in our shift to a third medium. Fukazawa's sense of composition and design was also unusual, with the print giving the viewer just a glimpse of a scene or a face and forcing one to fill in the blanks. It was hard to believe that such a traditional subject could be conveyed in such a Modern way.
The third of our Kabuki-inspired artists was also cast from a different mold. Perhaps it is an attribute of those artists who are totally enamored with the flamboyant Kabuki theater to carry its colorful gaiety over into their own lives. And we have often wondered, since so many Japanese artists tend to be a rather conventional lot, what the average Japanese thought of such marvels as Mori, Fukazawa, and Ouchi.
8. Mori Yoshitoshi (1898-1992). Titled on the reverse in Japanese Kuruma-hiki San Kyōdai (Rickshaw Pullers, Three Brothers), 3/50, 1971, stencil, 57.5x70.5 cm. Signed Yoshitoshi Mori, sealed on the image in kanji Yoshitoshi.
9. Fukazawa Shiro (1907-78). Sharaku and I, 32/35, 1976, silkscreen, 60x69 cm. Signed Shiro F.
