As a London artist with a deep appreciation for Japanese prints, I often reflect on the extraordinary ecosystem that once surrounded ukiyo-e and shin-hanga production. In the Edo period and even beyond into the 1950s, artists, woodblock carvers, and printers worked in harmony, each playing a vital role in producing these captivating works of art. The sheer number of skilled hands involved made it possible for visionaries like Hokusai, Hiroshige and Hasui (and their publishers who bankrolled them!) to see their ideas come to life with remarkable precision and detail.
It is with a touch of envy that I think of the artists of that era. They were surrounded by artisans, laborers and publishers whose talents made their ambitious projects feasible. Woodblock carvers, with their mastery of carving delicate lines, and printers, who understood the subtleties of layering colours, were essential components of the creative process. This collaborative spirit, supported by a system where that labour was affordable and specialised skills were abundant, allowed for an explosion of creativity that defined an age.
Publishers too played an essential role in the Edo period and the shin-hanga movement, acting as the vital link between artists, carvers, printers, and the public; much like gallerists today. In the Edo period (1603–1868), publishers bankrolled the production of ukiyo-e prints, funding not just the artists who designed them but also the skilled artisans who carved and printed them. They bore significant financial risk and were responsible for marketing and distributing the prints, which turned iconic works by masters like Hokusai and Hiroshige into cultural touchstones. This model continued into the early 20th century with the shin-hanga movement, where publishers like Watanabe Shōzaburō revitalized traditional printmaking by commissioning artists and ensuring high-quality craftsmanship. Their vision and investment helped merge Japanese aesthetics with Western tastes, appealing to an international market and sparking a renewed interest in Japanese woodblock prints. Without the financial and promotional support of publishers, these influential art forms might not have flourished or reached their iconic status.
In the shin-hanga movement, the system of collaboration between artists, publishers, carvers, and printers was so well-established that even foreign artists such as Elizabeth Keith, Charles W. Bartlett and Bertha Lum, could have their works turned into woodblock prints with relative ease, a stark contrast to the complexities of today’s art production processes.
In today's world, that ecosystem is largely lost. The dedicated carvers, the seasoned printers—their roles have faded into rarity, replaced by prohibitively expensive bespoke craftsmanship (one design of prints can cost £20,000, at least according to Ukiyo-e Project) or amateurs and enthusiasts (not to deride them! but an art movement cannot be built on them alone). The cultural shift means that the collaborative network once integral to ukiyo-e and shin-hanga has all but disappeared, making it challenging for contemporary artists to replicate the traditional methods - at least to the level they may desire.
Yet, this absence also sparks a longing to imagine a modern revival—a new wave of ukiyo-e. What would it take to rekindle this lost ecosystem in a modern context? Could we merge contemporary technology with traditional techniques to build an art movement that honours the past while pushing boundaries?
In my vision, this new ukiyo-e would integrate digital tools alongside a community of skilled artisans willing to reinterpret these old methods. While we may never fully replicate the environment of Edo or even early 20th century Tokyo, there is potential to foster a collective spirit that draws from its principles—collaboration, precision, and a shared love for fleeting beauty. I am as yet, still unsure how this would take shape: possibly silk screen printing, or perhaps using laser to cut woodblocks which could be printed by hand?
As I work within the confines of my London studio, I hold onto the dream of crafting this new wave: a movement where the ethos of the 'floating world' is brought into the present, woven together with new technologies and dedicated hands willing to preserve and innovate upon an art form that once defined an era.
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