Utagawa Hiroshige - ‘Cherry Blossoms on a Moonless Night Along the Sumida River’ Colour woodblock print triptych 1847-48.
Photo Matsuba Ryōko

I recently attended a splendid exhibition of the woodblock prints of Utagawa Hiroshige. (‘Artist of the Open Road’ is at the British Museum, London until 7 September 2025.)

‘[My] drawings present completely true-to-life landscapes to give people just a moment
of pleasure without the inconvenience of a long journey.’
Utagawa Hiroshige

Hiroshige was born in 1797, into a low-ranking samurai family in Edo, present-day Tokyo. It was a time of social upheaval, as Japan experienced urban expansion, famine and foreign military incursions. His work, however, offered reassurance, capturing the pleasures of bustling city life, the tranquillity of remote landscapes, the quiet calm of the country’s flowers and wildlife.

‘Suffused with scent,
each falling drop of dew releases
the chrysanthemum's perfume!’
Anonymous (1700s–early 1830s) Poem inscribed on Hiroshige's 'Pheasant and chrysanthemums'

Early morning visitors admire the plum garden at Kameido. Pleasure boats pack the Sumida river as fireworks explode overhead. A wealthy merchant family treads carefully through the newly fallen snow. An elegantly dressed woman clutches her fan in her teeth, pausing to adjust her sash. When a sudden rainstorm catches people unawares, they scurry for shelter. Geese settle on the fields as the evening bell tolls, and cherry trees line the street in springtime. The full moon lights a view of Edo Bay.

'The mountains of Kai Province stretch into the distance: high peaks, low valleys, the pure running waters of the Katsura River, the magnificent views changing every ten or twenty paces – beyond words to describe, beyond my poor brush to capture.’
Utagawa Hiroshige

Utagawa Hiroshige - 'Gion Shrine in the Snow'

Hiroshige’s images are vibrant, crammed with detail and nuance. They are also observant, witty and sympathetic. Employing bold colour gradation to give the appearance of three-dimensions, he juxtaposes large foreground subjects with distant landscapes, drawing us into a scene.

‘Sailing right along
on a three-day crescent moon,
the long-eared owl longs
for an earful of music:
the pines humming in the wind.’
Hachijintei (active 1810s–30s) Poem inscribed on Hiroshige's 'Owl on pine branch'

The samurai government had banned foreign travel since the 1630s. And so, by Hiroshige's time, domestic journeys were hugely popular. People made pilgrimages, sightseeing and business trips, along the Eastern Coast Road connecting Edo with Kyoto, the emperor's capital. Or they took the more challenging Central Mountain Road through steep passes and over precarious suspension bridges.

We see samurai lords with their attendant retinues en route to pay their respects to the shogun. Fishmongers set up their market stalls at the waystation. Crowds of female musicians flock to the shrine at Enoshima Island. Sailboats ferry travellers across the bay. Poets visiting Mount Kanō, relax at the inn after an evening bath. While outside the rain pours persistently down.

Utagawa Hiroshige - Nihonbashi asa no kei 日本橋朝之景 (Nihonbashi - Morning Scene)

‘These break my heart:
red leaves coating a ground of green moss,
and cool winds crossing a sky of evening rain.
Bai Juyi (AD 772–846) Poem inscribed on Hiroshige's print ‘Between the Leaves’

The mass-production of colour woodblock prints during Hiroshige’s time enabled ordinary people to buy beautifully made but disposable images at modest prices. His best-selling designs may have been printed up to 15,000 times before the woodblocks wore down. And publishers would issue multiple variants.

Hiroshige also created designs for well over 500 uchiwa, inexpensive hand-held fans. These elegant, fragile objects - oval-shaped and set on fixed ribs with a handle - were used in the warm weather for just one season and then discarded.

Utagawa Hiroshige - Sudden Shower over Shin-Ōhashi Bridge and Atake, 1857

I was struck by this phenomenon of Disposable Creativity: with his affordable, accessible prints, Hiroshige was producing fleeting moments of beauty for average citizens in the midst of their hectic lives. This should perhaps inspire those of us working in the contemporary communication sector. We may be engaged in hard-nosed commercial transactions. We may occupy an insignificant part of consumers’ everyday experience. But we can still aspire to leaving our audiences with a precious moment, a brief intimacy, a fragile beauty.

‘As, throughout the night,
more and still more dew sprang up
on their horsetail mat,
the rabbit's missus likewise
could not remain long in bed.
Kawanoya Yukisa, Poem inscribed on Hiroshige's 'Rabbits and horsetail beneath the moon'

After Hiroshige's death in 1858, European and American artists and collectors admired his work as part of the nineteenth-century movement known as Japonisme. At the exhibition you can see a faded Hiroshige print owned by Van Gogh, and the meticulous trace he made of it, so as to paint his own oil copy. Ultimately Hiroshige’s transient art has endured.

'When the night draws on,
Crevices deep down to me.
At last my memories are free,
That let my fish loose.
Trace the spiral alone,
Here in the fifth lake.
Shadows and the silence,
Time creeps on the night.
Fish and miller or deep sea.
Fish with eyes of blue.
Feeding on the blue seeds,
Swimming through my mind.’
Nobukazu Takemura, 'Let My Fish Loose'

No. 522