The Unbelievable Tale of the Ukiyo-e Prints

Here I’m going to tell you about the first full collection I’ve been given to catalogue, and how there turned out to be much more to it than met the eye.

When I finished in the L-shaped room, my manager recommended a few other collections containing artworks that I could work on. These were part of a survey she did about a year ago. She prioritised specific ones that had been given little attention up until this point. I was especially drawn to one that was simply called ‘Japanese drawings’. It seemed very manageable within the time I have left, and besides, I’ve always loved Japanese art. The prints were tucked away in the stacks, in a black solander box. As soon as I looked at them I realised two things. Firstly, they were not drawings – they were woodblock prints, similarly to those I’d seen recently in the British Museum. Secondly, at present they were hidden from people who would really want to see them.


From Sadahide's Sugawara Tragedy

Helpful notes that accompanied the prints gave me their titles, artists, and rough dates – they were created during the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries. They are ukiyo-e prints; ukiyo-e translates as ‘pictures of the floating world’. The term ‘floating world’ refers to the life of hedonism and indulgence lived by the merchant class for whom prints like these were mass-produced. They depict all kind of subjects including landscapes, beautiful women, flora and fauna and scenes from folk tales. Hokusai’s ‘Great Wave off Kanagawa’ is a famous example. Another popular preoccupation is kabuki, or classical Japanese theatre, which is the subject of the Brotherton’s prints.



Last print in Sugawara.
 

There are two sets, each depicting a series of scenes from popular plays of their period. Hiroshige’s Chushingura tells the story of the 47 Ronin, warriors who avenge the wrongful death of their lord; our set comprises 11 prints. Sagahide’s The Sugawara Tragedy is about the life of Sugawara no Michizane, a court noble accused of plotting to seize the throne; there are 10 prints in this set. In real life the colours look even more lush and beautiful, and fortunately, our sets of prints are in pretty good condition, so that the colours are still vibrant.

I found researching the prints very hard going, as there didn’t seem to be much information on these particular sets. The only good source I found was online information from a book from the 1920s called ‘A Guide to Japanese Prints’ by Basil Stewart, which seemed to be a seminal work. I noticed that this book described both sets of prints as ‘very rare’. Surely, if this was the case, it was important to know for sure?

From Chushingura. 

As luck would have it, someone could provide me with an answer. The conservator put me on to a local person, Ellis, who just so happens to be a leading expert on Japanese prints. He lectured at the university for 25 years and wrote a book for the British Museum http://www.japansociety.org.uk/16570/japanese-prints-ukiyo-e-in-edo-1700-1900/ . I e-mailed him and he came in the next day to have a look at the collection.

He was very interested in the prints and took a lot of photos. He told me that the Sadahide prints were special, as he knew of no other complete set (the Hiroshige set was a bit less remarkable). The Toyoharu was also valuable due to its age, although unfortunately someone had had the bright idea of folding it over to get it in the box, which means there’s a crease down the middle. I’ve now found it a new box and it is in line to be flattened out, possibly through humidifying.

The big news, though, was the provenance of the prints. All I knew was that they used to belong to a collector called Norman Walker who lectured in botany at the university, and were presented to us by a Mrs Redman King. However, Ellis knew about Mrs Redman King’s collection because it had been deposited in the Leeds City Museum, until, in quite a scandalous auction in the 1980s, the bulk of it was sold at way below its market value. Our prints, however, were gifted to us in memory of Norman Walker. The exciting thing, though, is exactly who left the prints to Norman Walker. Turns out it was Basil Stewart! Meaning the information I’d been reading online was actually making reference to the very prints in front of me.

I was absolutely thrilled to hear this news. Ellis suggested that the Brotherton considers depositing the prints with the V&A, and I would be delighted if this decision were taken. The V&A has the largest collection of Japanese prints in the UK, and if our prints could stay there (even as a deposit) it would make them much more accessible, as no one would think of looking for them in our library. I’ve sent the suggestion on to my supervisors and will ask them next week what they think will happen, or whom to pass all this information on to.

I do feel something of a sense of pride, considering I had always suspected that the prints were rare and after chasing it up had found that my instincts were true. However, it is all a bit ironic, because I’m spending a lot of time cataloguing them and taking photographs (more on this next time), and if they leave, I don’t know if this might all be for nothing… Still, if they do stay for at least a good while longer (as is most likely!) it’ll mean the staff can find them, and information about them, easily and they will no longer be hidden on a top shelf on one of the stacks, their true value undetected!