In 2007, Christie’s Auctioneers in London sold a fine and early impression of Katsushika Hokusai’s iconic woodblock print Gaifu Kaisei (South Wind, Clear Weather), commonly known as “Red Fuji.” This Edo Japan-era work nearly tripled the high end of its £80,000-£100,000 estimate, selling for £288,500, or in excess of $600,000 USD. This world record is even more extraordinary when one considers the humble origins of the ukiyo-e genre.

Gaifu Kaisei (South Wind, Clear Weather), known as “Red Fuji,”

Katsushika Hokusai, 1760-1849 Photo: www.commons.wikimedia.org({PD-Art}).

The term ukiyo-e is first expressed by the 17th century Japanese novelist Ryoi in his work Ukiyo Monogatari (Tales of the Floating World) as: “...Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves; singing songs, drinking wine, diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; caring not a whit for the pauperism staring us in the face, refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call the floating world...” (Lane, Richard. Images from the Floating World: The Japanese Print. New York: Dorset Press. 1978.)

During the Edo era (1603-1868), Japan was a feudal country tightly controlled by the Tokugawa Shogunate, a regime founded on hereditary military dictatorship. The two hundred and fifty year rule of the shogunates brought unprecedented peace, political stability and economic prosperity, perhaps aided by a national seclusion policy (sakoku) that kept foreign influences out on pain of death. Urbanization and domestic trade blossomed; by the mid-eighteenth century, Edo, the capital of Japan (present day Tokyo) had transformed from a small, fishing village to a city with a burgeoning population of 1,000,000 inhabitants.

In this rigidly hierarchical society craftsmen and artists hovered second from the bottom. They were, however, regarded with more esteem than the lowly mercantile class which, despite controlling the majority of the nation’s wealth, was considered parasitic by the upper caste. In spite of their low social ranking, the merchants revelled in their growing prosperity and delighted in the thrills of city life and the enticements it offered: kabuki theatre, sumo wrestling, singing, music, food, the ‘pleasure quarters’ and the like. They were a ripe audience for the craftsmen who would development an art form reflecting these popular tastes.

Indeed, ukiyo-e or ‘pictures of the floating world,’ were woodblock prints (and paintings) that celebrated the hedonism of the city and later, the inspiring vistas, flora, fauna and landmarks of the countryside. Ukiyo-e's unique style is rooted in traditional Japanese painting, but its subject matter originates in the surreal demimonde of the Yoshiwara, the licensed pleasure quarter of Edo; it was a place where urbane commoners and the upper warrior classes shared equal footing among the licentious offerings.

Producing a woodblock print was a team effort involving a publisher, who played the role of both project financier and distributor; the artist, who would design the image; a carver, who would paste the image to a catalpa or cherry wood block and carve it following the contours of the design (using a different block for each colour to be included); a printer, who would ink the block and register each colour pigment upon an absorbent mulberry bark paper until the image was complete. A keyblock or primary carved block with guidelines called ‘kento’ marks, ensured alignment of each colour impression. Produced in two standard sizes, oban (15” x 10”) and chuban (10.5” x 8”), the pigments were initially plant or mineral-based until colourfast and brilliant aniline dyes were introduced around 1860, overtaking native pigments all together by the end of the century. A print run in the 18th century was typically about two hundred copies while runs in the 19th century could be up to a thousand.

The prints were mass-produced, making them accessible to townsfolk who could not afford paintings; they could be obtained for approximately the cost of a bowl of noodles or a haircut (Guth, Christinte, Japanese Art of the Edo Period. London: Calmann and King, Ltd., 1996.) and they found an increasingly responsive market because they featured appealing subject matter drawn from city life with which the merchant class could identify. Printed as posters, pin-ups, advertising and calendars, they heralded the newest sumo matches, celebrated the popular kabuki theatre actors and lauded the talents of the pleasure quarter courtesans. Women sought them from vendors and book shops looking for the latest fashions and hair styles du jour. Enthusiasts acquired depictions of their favourite actors in their renowned roles; indeed some artists were given front row seats so as to quickly and accurately capture the exaggerated poses, expressions and actions for eager fans. Thus, subject matter was typically kabuki theatre, actors and sumo wrestlers; beautiful woman (bijin-ga); and then in the nineteenth century, nature, landscapes and famous sites as well as historic events and legends. Erotic prints, called shunga (spring pictures), though not officially sanctioned, enjoyed a healthy though surreptitious market at all levels of society. Prints were commonly used as vehicles for satirical and subversive commentary about the government and as the authorities would, from time to time, exact censorship and sanctions, artists (and their publishers) created ever more clever ways to communicate parody.

Oniji Ōtani III in a Kabuki production at Edo Kawarasaki-za theater.

Tōshūsai Sharaku, 1794. Henry L. Phillips Collection, Bequest of Henry L. Phillips, 1939 (JP2822) Photo: www.commons.wikimedia.org

Found at www.metmuseum.org, copyright expired.

It is thought by some that the ‘golden age’ of ukiyo-e peaked in the late 18th century with the work of such artists as Harunobu, Sharaku, Utamaro, Toyokuni, the Utagawa School and the glory of the multi-colour print (nishiki-e). The finest quality paper, the most brilliant dyes and numerous colours, in some cases up to twelve, were used by artists and publishers to create textured and complex prints of varied subjects. Some designs (such as the New Year, or greeting cards) were specially commissioned works for those wealthy enough to afford them. Artists developed specialities in both subject and style for which they were known; Kiyonaga for his depictions of gorgeous courtesans, Sharaku for his kabuki actors.

Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849) and Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858) are perhaps the best known ukiyo-e artists of the 19th century; images from their respective suites ― The Thirty Six Views of Mount Fuji and the Fifty-Three Stations of the Tokaido ― among numerous other images, were not only popular as regional maps and souvenirs within their own country but were ‘discovered’ by European artists. They heavily influenced impressionist and post-impressionist artists such as Vincent van Gogh, James McNeill Whistler and Mary Cassatt. These two masters are considered the last of their kind; though ukiyo-e continue to be produced even today, the art began its decline in the mid-nineteenth century due to a decrease in quality, political and cultural upheaval following the opening of Japan to the West, and the influx of new technology such as photography and lithography. By now, the Japanese held little regard for ukiyo-e prints and even used them as packing paper for shipping. A far cry from the hundreds of thousands of dollars a single sheet of that ‘packing paper’ might fetch at auction today.

Certainly not all prints command such vertiginous prices. As with any market, ukiyo-e prints are commonly found in both the primary and secondary market for a wide range of prices and varying degrees of authenticity, quality and condition. Fledgling collectors face a learning curve in amassing knowledge and developing ‘an eye.’ However, dealers are present in most large cities worldwide, a litany of scholarship exists, and many major international museums and galleries claim a handful of these woodblock prints as part of their permanent collection, so resources for the neophyte are plentiful.

The most practical way to build a knowledge base is to spend lots of time with prints; viewing and handling as many works as possible will accustom the hand to quality paper and the eye to particular artists’ styles, the strength of impressions, colours and the grade of condition. Learning to identify the artist and publishers’ seals along the margins, in addition to reading the censor seals (nanushi), the print number and date seals as well as developing familiarity with commonly depicted themes, tales, folklore, persons and theatre productions can be arduous and occasionally fraught with pitfalls.

Sorting through the morass of reproductions―both legitimate (various editions, posthumous printings, restrikes, recuts and contemporary reproductions in unlimited editions) and illegitimate (deceptive fakes and copies)―can be a Herculean task. Both proliferate. In some cases the evidence will be in the seals. For example, the great fascination in the West for things Japanese and in particular woodblock prints led some publishers (such as Watanabe) to reproduce popular images en masse on which they impressed their seal, indicating a 20th century product. In most cases, however, collectors must rely upon their eye, their hand, their knowledge base and their instinct; a lot can be at stake when it means the difference between a few hundred and a few hundred thousand dollars.