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Hokusai | Poem by Sarumaru Dayu, One Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse

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葛飾北齋 Katsushika Hokusai（1760-1849）

百人一首 乳母释歌图 猿丸太夫
Poem by Sarumaru Dayu, from the series of One Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse

1839

木版画 | 横绘大判 | 26cm x 37.5cm
Woodblock-print | Oban yoko -e | 26cm x 37.5cm

早期的版次；颜色鲜艳；整体品相非常好；随年代而出现的一些小污渍；极其轻微的中间折痕
Early impression; strong color; oxidation; very slight centerfold; some minor soiling commensurate with age; otherwise in good condition.

《百人一首 乳母释歌图》是葛饰北斋晚年创作的最后一组版画系列。完成这一系列后，北斋逐渐将创作重心转向肉笔与素描创作。该系列原计划对应《百人一首》的一百首和歌，最终仅完成 27 幅，但仍留存下相当数量的构思草图，使这一未竟之作在艺术史上占据重要位置。

这一系列的构想极具北斋个人特色。他并未以严肃、正统的方式诠释这些经典和歌，而是假想它们是由一位文化程度不高的乳母（“姥”）讲述给孩童听的故事。诗意在转述中被简化、错置，甚至产生轻微误解，这种“不准确”反而让作品多了一层温和的人情味，使高雅的文学传统自然回落到日常生活之中。

本作是系列中的第五幅，取材自猿丸大夫的一首和歌。诗中描绘的是他所熟悉的深山秋景，情绪低回而孤寂：

深山幽处，
踏过殷红秋叶，
漫游的雄鹿低鸣。
听见那孤独的啼声，
秋天啊，何其悲凉。

画面并未直接描绘诗中的雄鹿，而是将其安排在远处山丘之上，仅以极小的形象出现；前景则呈现出一幅看似与诗无关的日常场景：采集完蘑菇的山村妇女，正沿山路返回茅草屋。正是这种看似“偏离主题”的处理，使诗意不以直观形式出现，而是在画面的空间关系中缓缓展开。

通过人物的动作与视线，其中一人指向远方，北斋巧妙地引导观者注意到那遥远山丘上的雄鹿及其孤独的鸣叫。此时，秋夜正悄然降临，橙红色的枫叶即将被暮色吞没，寒冬仿佛近在眼前。低垂的云雾为画面留出呼吸的空间，而略显深沉的色彩变化，则进一步强化了整幅作品肃穆而忧郁的氛围。诗意并未被直接描绘，却在画面的空间与节奏中缓缓展开。

正如学者彼得·莫尔斯(Peter Morse)所说，这是一幅在多个层面上都近乎完美的作品。北斋对自然、空间与诗意转化的敏锐感受，在此得到了克制而深刻的呈现。

The “Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse” was the great Katsushika Hokusai’s final single-sheet color woodblock print series; after this, he focused on paintings and his sketchbooks. Only 27 designs were completed, although there are also quite a few preparatory drawings known. The idea was classic Hokusai – famous poems (still beloved in Japan today) were simplified, as if being retold by an uneducated wet nurse. This allowed for mildly comic errors and misinterpretations.

This, the fifth design in the series, is based on a poem by Sarumaru Dayu, who was believed to have been active around 700-715 and lived in the woods outside of Kyoto. According to the scholar Peter Morse, “Dayu” is a title given to a commoner who was skilled in a given field, suggesting Sarumaru was not highly educated but, rather, a natural-born talent. The poem captures the melancholy autumn beauty in the mountains he obviously knew so well:

In the mountain depths,

Treading through the crimson leaves,

Cries the wandering stag.

When I hear the lonely cry,

Sad -- how sad – the autumn is.

Morse, in Hokusai: One Hundred Poets (Braziller; 1989) says, “This is an absolutely perfect print in many ways.” Yes: so much of what we love about Hokusai is demonstrated here.

To begin with, the stag, and his mate, are relegated to tiny figures in the distant background, atop a hill, while the foreground comprises a lovely scene that has nothing to do with the poem: mountain woman return to the warmth of their thatched-roofed homes after gathering mushrooms. But somehow, through the body language of the peasants, one of them pointing, the master draws our attention to that distant stag and his “lonely cry.”

Meanwhile, an autumnal night descends, promising to soon cloak the orange maple leaves in darkness. A cold winter is not far behind. Sad, indeed.

We also see some stylized low-lying clouds, a device Hokusai often used to mask unnecessary elements – to give his compositions breathing space, in other words. These include extensive oxidation, which occurred as lead red pigment transformed after being exposed to the air. When this first occurred in Ukiyoe, it was an accident, but by the time this print was published it was likely a conscious and clever design element, adding another somber note to this wonderful and atmospheric scene.

Interested in purchasing?
Please contact us.

葛飾北齋 Katsushika Hokusai（1760-1849）

百人一首 乳母释歌图 猿丸太夫
Poem by Sarumaru Dayu, from the series of One Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse

1839

木版画 | 横绘大判 | 26cm x 37.5cm
Woodblock-print | Oban yoko -e | 26cm x 37.5cm

早期的版次；颜色鲜艳；整体品相非常好；随年代而出现的一些小污渍；极其轻微的中间折痕
Early impression; strong color; oxidation; very slight centerfold; some minor soiling commensurate with age; otherwise in good condition.

《百人一首 乳母释歌图》是葛饰北斋晚年创作的最后一组版画系列。完成这一系列后，北斋逐渐将创作重心转向肉笔与素描创作。该系列原计划对应《百人一首》的一百首和歌，最终仅完成 27 幅，但仍留存下相当数量的构思草图，使这一未竟之作在艺术史上占据重要位置。

这一系列的构想极具北斋个人特色。他并未以严肃、正统的方式诠释这些经典和歌，而是假想它们是由一位文化程度不高的乳母（“姥”）讲述给孩童听的故事。诗意在转述中被简化、错置，甚至产生轻微误解，这种“不准确”反而让作品多了一层温和的人情味，使高雅的文学传统自然回落到日常生活之中。

本作是系列中的第五幅，取材自猿丸大夫的一首和歌。诗中描绘的是他所熟悉的深山秋景，情绪低回而孤寂：

深山幽处，
踏过殷红秋叶，
漫游的雄鹿低鸣。
听见那孤独的啼声，
秋天啊，何其悲凉。

画面并未直接描绘诗中的雄鹿，而是将其安排在远处山丘之上，仅以极小的形象出现；前景则呈现出一幅看似与诗无关的日常场景：采集完蘑菇的山村妇女，正沿山路返回茅草屋。正是这种看似“偏离主题”的处理，使诗意不以直观形式出现，而是在画面的空间关系中缓缓展开。

通过人物的动作与视线，其中一人指向远方，北斋巧妙地引导观者注意到那遥远山丘上的雄鹿及其孤独的鸣叫。此时，秋夜正悄然降临，橙红色的枫叶即将被暮色吞没，寒冬仿佛近在眼前。低垂的云雾为画面留出呼吸的空间，而略显深沉的色彩变化，则进一步强化了整幅作品肃穆而忧郁的氛围。诗意并未被直接描绘，却在画面的空间与节奏中缓缓展开。

正如学者彼得·莫尔斯(Peter Morse)所说，这是一幅在多个层面上都近乎完美的作品。北斋对自然、空间与诗意转化的敏锐感受，在此得到了克制而深刻的呈现。

The “Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse” was the great Katsushika Hokusai’s final single-sheet color woodblock print series; after this, he focused on paintings and his sketchbooks. Only 27 designs were completed, although there are also quite a few preparatory drawings known. The idea was classic Hokusai – famous poems (still beloved in Japan today) were simplified, as if being retold by an uneducated wet nurse. This allowed for mildly comic errors and misinterpretations.

This, the fifth design in the series, is based on a poem by Sarumaru Dayu, who was believed to have been active around 700-715 and lived in the woods outside of Kyoto. According to the scholar Peter Morse, “Dayu” is a title given to a commoner who was skilled in a given field, suggesting Sarumaru was not highly educated but, rather, a natural-born talent. The poem captures the melancholy autumn beauty in the mountains he obviously knew so well:

In the mountain depths,

Treading through the crimson leaves,

Cries the wandering stag.

When I hear the lonely cry,

Sad -- how sad – the autumn is.

Morse, in Hokusai: One Hundred Poets (Braziller; 1989) says, “This is an absolutely perfect print in many ways.” Yes: so much of what we love about Hokusai is demonstrated here.

To begin with, the stag, and his mate, are relegated to tiny figures in the distant background, atop a hill, while the foreground comprises a lovely scene that has nothing to do with the poem: mountain woman return to the warmth of their thatched-roofed homes after gathering mushrooms. But somehow, through the body language of the peasants, one of them pointing, the master draws our attention to that distant stag and his “lonely cry.”

Meanwhile, an autumnal night descends, promising to soon cloak the orange maple leaves in darkness. A cold winter is not far behind. Sad, indeed.

We also see some stylized low-lying clouds, a device Hokusai often used to mask unnecessary elements – to give his compositions breathing space, in other words. These include extensive oxidation, which occurred as lead red pigment transformed after being exposed to the air. When this first occurred in Ukiyoe, it was an accident, but by the time this print was published it was likely a conscious and clever design element, adding another somber note to this wonderful and atmospheric scene.

Interested in purchasing?
Please contact us.

Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849)

In the annals of Ukiyo-e, no design is more iconic than “The Great Wave Off Kanagawa.”

This bold image of a gigantic, froth-tentacled wave enveloping both Mt. Fuji and crescent-shaped boats of huddled fishermen has burst out of the world of Japanese woodblock prints and into the mainstream of global culture. It appears on Swatch watches, in political ads, on record albums and yes, even on sexual devices. There are believed to be about 200 originals of them left on the planet. In March 2023, one sold in auction for $2.76 million, a record for Ukiyo-e. Meiji-era reprints can, absurdly, sell for as much as $5,000.

The fame of this undisputed masterpiece is a mixed blessing for lovers and collectors of Japanese woodblock prints. On the one hand, its notoriety brings attention to the form. But on the other it can take up all the oxygen in the room. New collectors chase it. But it can overshadow all the other arguably comparable masterworks by its creator – such as “Red Fuji” or “Rainstorm Beneath the Summit.”

And it can also overshadow its creator himself. And that would be a shame, for there are few characters more legendary, more prolific, more influential and more just all around interesting in the Ukiyo-e universe than Katsushika Hokusai.

Born in 1760 and living until 1849 – a long life in Edo times – he produced untold thousands of works, from intricate color prints to luxurious paintings to books upon books of drawings and sketches. His designs were boldly modern and instantly recognizable, in several cases deeply influencing Western art.

His voluminous sketchbooks are the clear forerunners of today’s manga comic books and Japanese animated movies. His lines were clever and precise. He was the subject of a major 2020 movie in Japan.

Alas, his personal life was a bit of a mess. Despite his fame, he often lived in squalor. Later in life, he referred to himself as “Old Man Mad About Drawing.”

Muneshige Narazaki, a scholar of Ukiyo-e, wrote:

Hokusai’s life spanned almost the whole of that golden age. His art progressed in gradual stages from the imitation of others to mature independence and the development of new forms, then went on to new heights while the form itself was lapsing into decadence, and finally survived to see itself become old-fashioned in its turn, and to be superseded.

He was born in Edo as Tokitaro Kawamura and was adopted by a mirror maker. Showing early promise, he studied with several Ukiyo-e greats, with varying levels of success. He’d changed his name repeatedly throughout his life. He began by doing designs for illustrated books.

His greatest series is undoubtably “36 Views of Mt. Fuji,” which was published by Yohachi from 1823 to 1832 and which includes “The Great Wave Off Kanazawa” as its centerpiece.

Many of the designs in this landmark series, which helped introduce the landscape genre to the thriving print marketplace, are exquisitely simple. It featured considerable use of Prussian Blue, just then introduced to Japan; the key blocks of the first 36 are in this pigment. I say “the first” because the series was so successful that 10 more were produced, and you can tell those designs because those key blocks are in black. So really, 46 Views of Mt. Fuji.

He followed up with three books of black-and-white only prints called “100 Views of Mount Fuji.” They are wonderful. Hokusai just couldn’t stop.

Until he did. Hokusai wanted to live to 100 years old but didn’t make it.

He had a daughter, Katsushika Oi, who worked as his assistant and turned out to be a talent in her own right. Some scholars have even attributed some of his works to her. And she had something in common with her more famous father: she was also the focus of a recent blockbuster movie in Japan.

Partial citation: Narazaki, Muneshige, Hokusai: Masterworks of Ukiyo-e (Kodansha; 1968); Marks, Andreas, Japanese Woodblock Prints, Artists, Publishers and Masterworks: 1680-1900 (Tuttle; 2010); Forrer, Matthi, Hokusai (Prestel; 2015)