Hokusai and Simplicity

Yusei Hata

Hokusai is a name we associate with the Great Wave off Kanagawa, but he created countless other works that highlight the Ukiyo-e aesthetic and genre of art, characterized by the accessibility of art, both economically and cerebrally. This summer I had the pleasure of visiting a limited exhibition of Hokusai’s Manga, more commonly known as the Hokusai Sketches, in Roppongi, a city in Tokyo, Japan. This slightly costly exhibit really opened how I, a person who wasn’t the most familiar with Japanese art, understood the possibilities of the arts. It made me realize that I had trained myself in an artistic prison that I never knew I was in. Today, so much of the art world that I am involved in, including the music world, is fixated on western art aesthetic and philosophy. The Hokusai Sketches highlight how people can enjoy simple and accessible art; there isn’t a need to fuss about the authenticity of reproductions, and there aren’t hidden messages that the viewer should be looking for. This simplicity is certainly now a point of consideration for the music that I compose.

Ukiyo-e (“浮世絵” or “floating world art”) lies in a radically different tradition from western art. Japan was not influenced by western art at that time, as their borders were closed to the outside world during the Edo period (1603-1868) when Ukiyo-e flourished. When the Tokugawa Shogunate created a social caste system, artisans and merchants were at the bottom. With money, but without power, the merchants and artisans pursued the creation of art in pleasure districts in cities. These pleasure districts were walled and limited to a certain area of a city as a way for the Tokugawa Shogunate to control what the lower classed people Ukiyo-e is a highly reproducible art form and is meant to be that way. Engraved woodblocks are used to print the art onto sheets of paper, which is why they are called woodblock prints. Ink of one color is put on the wood block, and then a sheet of paper is put on the woodblock to absorb the ink; and this is done for every color in layers if there are multiple colors in an Ukiyo-e. In fact, The Hokusai Sketches were produced in books, which meant that anyone with a little extra pocket money could buy a book full of art.

This means that, naturally, the way the Japanese common people at the time looked at this art is different from how western audiences viewed western art. Walter Benjamin in his The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction says “Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be”. While it is true that we won’t be able to copy the actual brush strokes that Hokusai (or another Ukiyo-e artist) made in a reproduction, the act of reproduction is very closely connected to Ukiyo-e, and the reproduction process is also part of the art. In a video of the woodblock printing process [4], there are very delicate and dedicated actions in the carving of the wood, the application of the ink, and the pressing of the paper. Although nominally it’s a reproduction process, it radiates an aura beyond the simple act of “reproducing.” Interestingly enough, reproducing is a consistent aspect of the drawings in the Hokusai Sketches. Objects and living things are reproduced in the sketches, as are movements of nature or people [1]. This means that what we see is a reproduction of Hokusai’s reproduction of these things.

The Complete Hokusai 2021 exhibit had 15 exhibition stands that corresponded to each of the 15 volumes of the Hokusai Sketches published. Enough copies of each volume were present so that every page of the book can be seen behind the glass. Furthermore, the walls and floor had a wallpaper of drawings from the Sketches scattered about; just like reproduced works of Ukiyo-e, the art wasn’t only in one place, but everywhere. The sheer amount of black and white sketches helped me immerse myself into the world of the sketches. Ironically the one of the big aspects of many of these pages is the lack of a background (or world) that entities are on, and many of them simply exist in white space.

This emptiness leads me to believe that Hokusai didn’t intend for there to be much meaning beyond what is already there. Firstly we have to keep in mind that it was with ordinary citizens that these books we so popular, not other artists or the nobility. Furthermore, the text written in the exhibit also never said anything about the artist’s (Hokusai) meaning behind the drawings (that texts in museums usually have in extensive detail), leading me to believe there really isn’t more than meets the eye. Especially in the earlier volumes, many of the pages are illustrations of everyday objects, animals, plants, or activities (in the Edo period) without much context to them; there seems to be nothing happening to these animals, or the situation behind these men who are presumably working, for example.

According to Mari Hashimoto, the author of the text in the exhibition, there are sometimes relationships between the drawings on the page. In regards to the second volume, “in each spread, the images are laid out in a way that makes clear their interconnection and the way there are developing from one another” [1]. A western minded person might take that and look for underlying messages and intentions in the page. However, I still don’t believe this indicates that there is more than meets the eye in Hokusai’s work. I think it simply creates a path that the drawings follow, and the drawings themselves still don’t do anything beyond show what it is a drawing of.

Nothing in the previous paragraph is slander by any means. In fact it unlocked a new artistic door for me. It certainly helped me realize that there doesn’t need to be so much weight on my back. The stereotype of the artist is someone that creates masterpieces that will stand the test of time, touching people’s hearts for centuries after their passing. The classical music pedagogy that I have been with for my entire life follows something similar; as a musician, we should play to make the listener feel a certain way. As a composer, “what do you want your music to do to the listener?” is a question I heard countless times. In Kantian terminology, we are expected to achieve “sublimeness" in our art as artists. We are expected to illustrate something larger than ourselves, conquer social issues, and dig up the depths of our souls with art, because “The sublime must always be large” [7]. Does it really need to be that way? I don’t think we have to, because the people who see our art will do it for us.

Sontag seems to agree with me “It doesn’t matter whether artists intend, or don’t intend, for their works to be interpreted;” [6], we interpret them anyway. An extreme example is how constellations came to be; early humans saw the stars in the sky, and then not only connected certain stars together and grouped them, but also made full blown stories out of them. Just like that, when looking at the Hokusai Sketches, the world was my oyster as for interpretations. I wondered on and on about why the men on the page are fishing, or what type of world the crab might’ve seen in its time, maybe even how that crab might’ve tasted. My personal experience with these works was that, it felt really relaxing to let my mind wander knowing that there isn’t a right answer. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one whose thoughts ran with what they saw on the page.

If viewers of the art will inevitably be making meaning out of art, then do artists really need to be making intentions behind everything they do? For one, it tires us more than it needs to. Furthermore, why can’t we be more friendly to our viewers and give them art without always stuffing ourselves into it? Mari Hosokawa, who wrote the text panels in the exhibit, says that Hokusai didn’t draw more than he needed to “… Hokusai’s work indicates a whimsicality in terms of the subject matter- it tells the reader that the artist set down on paper just the things that he wanted to” [1].

Pushing these ideas into a completely different, more historical conclusion, the Hokusai Sketches were greatly successful in making art accessible to common people. This is clear in how much the books sold, and how there were two publishers involved in the process (one in Nagoya and the other in Edo) after the first volume [1]. Three likely reasons for this massive success is how much the art was reproduced, how simple the art was, and in the later volumes, how the things drawn catered to what was popular with the people at the time. When the Japanese people were interested warfare of the previous era, Hokusai’s 6th volume focused on weapons, armor, and martial arts in general. When Japan was in a craze for ghost stories, Hokusai wasted no time in joining it, as seen in his 10th volume. [1]

This further illuminates the importance of the consumer in art. The audience’s reactions and interpretations are a part, the final part, of the art making process. In Art pedagogy we are so focused on understanding and perfecting the thought process and ideas of the artist. Furthermore, we are focused on making sure that the audience or viewer receives these ideas. There is a whole different side of this coin; the consumers of the art are also people, who have their own ideas, and enjoy certain things. It would be absurd to articulate our audience’s intentions and ideas the way we do ours, but simply being aware of them can humble us as artists; that artists aren’t the only part of the creation of art. For most of my musical life, the audience was merely the receptor of all of my passion and dedication to the music. Something always felt wrong about it. They aren’t here for the artist (usually), but rather to satisfy themselves with art. This means that this isn’t a one sided relationship, and it isn’t right for the artist to only be thinking about themselves, and ought to consider the consumer. In “considering the consumer” I mean to be open to interpretation in our own works. Part of this is not making direct meanings in everything we do, but also to simply allow the art to be itself and not be stained by the artist’s hands. The rigidness in the artist’s side would mean the neglecting of the consumer, and hindering the art making process.

After all this, what am I going to do with what I realized when reflecting on the Complete Hokusai 2021 Exhibition? Especially in the last few years, I was extremely critical on myself when writing music. I was always thinking “that thing I wrote today, it wasn’t dedicated enough,” “I can’t justify why I wrote the notes that I wrote,” “why can’t I make anything but such insignificant music that will never change anyone’s lives?” Come to think back now, I was under a pressure that never existed, a pressure of duty as an artist to illustrate something larger than ourselves, conquer social issues, and dig up the depths of peoples’ souls with art. Furthermore, there wasn’t art around me to signify that the destructive thoughts are wrong; Beethoven, Mahler, Corot and Monet all had a supporting effect on the negative thoughts I had. It should be easier for me now to have a much more optimistic and forgiving view of my music making. Firstly, and more emotionally, I can relieve myself from suffering because I won’t need to validate my music. Not every piece needs to be revolutionary, and I’m allowed to write music without revolutionizing in mind. Secondly, the release would help me grow as an artist, figuring out what I like doing in composition, which was stopped by an illusion of what I “needed” to do in composition. Of course that doesn’t mean that I can’t be putting thought, passion, and detail into my music and what it does to an audience; it’s just not a requirement, and just that is enlightening to say the least.

The drawings of the fish, the people, the scenes, and the things that Hokusai drew in his Hokusai Sketches, it appealed well to the Japanese public at that time. In Hosokawa’s words, “He drew, …he drew some more” [1]. We see that he drew with nothing but the drawing in mind; nothing about his legacy or perfecting or connecting. I have the option to do the same with music. I can make music for the sake and joy of making music; not just me, but every music maker out there. I wonder what art the collective human minds would create if we all were released from an expectation. Would we regress in the appreciation of art? Knowing that people like to interpret and connect, I don’t think so.

Bibliography

1: https://360camera.space/virtualhokusai2021/ (Available Until 10/10)

2: Department of Asian Art. “Art of the Pleasure Quarters and the Ukiyo-e Style.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/plea/hd_plea.htm (October 2004)

3: Department of Asian Art. “Art of the Edo Period (1615–1868).” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/edop/hd_edop.htm (October 2003)

4: (2013). 江戸の鮮やかさ今に東京職人「浮世絵」. Retrieved 2021, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVaDwc_3aa8. 　

5: Benjamin, W. (1936). The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. (H. John, Trans., H. Arendt, Ed.). Schocken/Random House.

6: Sontag, S. (1966). VI. In Against Interpretation (pp. 95–104). essay.

7: Kant, I. (1799). First Section. In Observations on the feeling of the beautiful and sublime. essay.