Hokusai — Selected Works

Tsukasa and Other Courtesans of the Ogiya Watching the Autumn Moon Rise Over Rice Fields from a Balcony in the Yoshiwara

Katsushika Hokusai — 1799

Gomeirō is another name for the fashionable teahouse Ōgi-ya (House of Fans) in the Yoshiwara district of Edo (present-day Tokyo). Two courtesans, each attended by a geisha and a shinzō (apprentice to a courtesan) view a full autumn moon as it rises over the surrounding paddy fields. The elegance of the women's flowing robes and the serenity of the evening with a full silver moon contribute to the poetic atmosphere of this surimono , a privately commissioned print usually accompanied by text—here, a poem, which reads: What liveliness! Geisha, shinzō, and jesters fill the room, all guests of the moon.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

The Poetess Ono no Komachi, from the series "Six Immortal Poets (Rokkasen)"

Katsushika Hokusai — 1805

Famous poets of Japan’s classical age have been grouped into sets for centuries, likely as a way to teach their writings. The poet Ono no Komachi was the only woman among the Six Immortal Poets, commemorated in a print series by Katsushika Hokusai. She was born in the ninth century, and very little is known about her. Accounts of her vary: Some revered her as a talented poet and an incomparable beauty, while others portrayed her as an impoverished and unattractive old woman. Here she is dressed in ninth-century court robes as she looks over her shoulder from behind a standing screen. In the poem, Komachi subtly deplores the unreliability of a man’s love, comparing the change in a flower’s color to the changes in one’s heart: What fades But is not seen in color Is in the blossom In the heart of that person In my world. (Translation by Roy E. Teele) Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

Basket of Peonies

Katsushika Hokusai — 1810

A surimono is a privately commissioned print used to announce or commemorate a special event. This picture celebrates an event in the life of the actor Ichikawa Danjuro VII, whose emblem was the peony. According to Japanese tradition, the peony–one of the flowers of the four seasons–is the flower of summer.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

Under the Wave off Kanagawa (Kanagawa oki nami ura), also known as The Great Wave, from the series "Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjurokkei)"

Katsushika Hokusai — 1825

Katsushika Hokusai’s much celebrated series, Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjûrokkei), was begun in 1830, when the artist was 70 years old. This tour-de-force series established the popularity of landscape prints, which continues to this day. Perhaps most striking about the series is Hokusai’s copious use of the newly affordable Berlin blue pigment, featured in many of the compositions in the color for the sky and water. Mount Fuji is the protagonist in each scene, viewed from afar or up close, during various weather conditions and seasons, and from all directions. The most famous image from the set is the "Great Wave" (Kanagawa oki nami ura), in which a diminutive Mount Fuji can be seen in the distance under the crest of a giant wave. The three impressions of Hokusai’s Great Wave in the Art Institute are all later impressions than the first state of the design. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

Shower Below the Summit (Sanka hakuu), from the series "Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjurokkei)"

Katsushika Hokusai — 1825

Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849) is considered one of the greatest artists in Japanese history, and one of the important masters of the Japanese woodblock print. Hokusai's most famous work is the series Fugaku sanju-rokkei (Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji), created between 1830 and 1832, when the artist was over seventy years of age. This brilliant series actually consists of forty-six views of the well-known mountain: the extra ten scenes were added by Hokusai to the initial thirty-six views. The ingenuity of artistic expression and the astonishing variety of vantage points from which Mount Fuji is viewed are a testament to Hokusai's creativity. Mount Fuji, known as "Fuji-san," is the highest mountain in Japan, with a height of 12,385 feet. Once an active volcano, its last great eruption was in 1707. Well before Hokusai's time, Mount Fuji had been worshipped as a sacred mountain, and in his day it was a destination for pilgrims from all over Japan.While known for his novel and dynamic compositions, Hokusai's greatest strength was undoubtedly his remarkable draftsmanship. As a colorist, he was capable of being both bold and sensitive, and much of his success depended on his judicious combination of both exceptional drawing and dazzling color. Here, the mountain is shown with clear skies at its summit and a thunderstorm near its base. The combination of the elegant sloping sides of the volcano and the sharp, jagged lines of lightning at the bottom results in an image of great simplicity and visual force. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

Kohada Koheiji, from the series "One Hundred Ghost Tales (Hyaku monogatari)"

Katsushika Hokusai — 1826

This frightening print illustrates the story of Kohada Koheiji, a Kabuki actor who was drowned by his wife’s lover but later came back to haunt the couple. The tale was popular in the 18th century, eventually inspiring a novel and several Kabuki plays. Here, the skeletal ghost of Kohada Koheiji pulls down the mosquito net and eerily peers at the sleeping couple in their bed. The Art Institute’s collection boasts one of the most well-preserved and appreciated editions of Katsushika Hok usa i’s One Hundred Ghost Tales series (1831–32). The artist apparently planned to produce a full hundred images, but the series was not completed and only five prints are known. The title refers to a game in which people would gather at night to tell scary stories, putting out a candle after each tale until the room was completely dark. These small-format works feature a bright-blue color made possible by Berlin blue pigment (often called “Prussian blue”), which had become affordable shortly before their production. Although this hue may seem cheery to us, Hokusai’s original audience would have associated it with death and the occult. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

Abe no Nakamaro, seventh poet in the series One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets Explained by the Nurse

Katsushika Hokusai — 1830

The eighth-century poet Abe no Nakamaro, accompanied by Chinese attendants, stands on a hill in China and gazes toward his home country Japan, to which he never returned. In the poem inscribed in a cartouche at the upper right, he wonders if the moon is the same as he had seen at Mount Mikasa in Nara. Nakamaro, who was sent to China as a young student and diplomat, spent more than fifty years there. Because of rough storms at sea, his two attempts to return to Japan failed. Hokusai placed only a reflection of the moon on the sea to avoid being too obvious. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

South Wind, Clear Sky, from Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji

Katsushika Hokusai — 1830

Mt. Fuji, Japan’s highest mountain, appeared in most Japanese 19th-century travel literature. Maps sometimes showed its location with a Fuji-shaped icon and indicated where travelers could get the best view of it. Between 1829 and 1833, Hokusai created a print series depicting thirty-six views of the mountain, including this one, sometimes known as “Red Fuji.” The season in this scene is a time between late summer and early autumn, when the mountain takes on a reddish hue.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

A View of Mount Fuji and Travellers by a Bridge

Katsushika Hokusai — 1830

Here, Mount Fuji is seen across the fields known as Nakahara, just off the T kaid Road (the principal route along the eastern coast between Edo and Kyoto). In the foreground is the thatched roof of a shrine and a stone statue on the bank of the stream.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

The Mansion of the Plates (Sara yashiki), from the series "One Hundred Ghost Tales (Hyaku monogatari)"

Katsushika Hokusai — 1831

This print illustrates the legend of a woman murdered by her husband because she accidentally broke plates. Her corpse and the pieces of the dishes were thrown into a well, but her ghost returned every night to haunt him in the eerie form seen here. The Art Institute’s collection boasts one of the most well-preserved and appreciated editions of Katsushika Hok usa i’s One Hundred Ghost Tales series (1831–32). The artist apparently planned to produce a full hundred images, but the series was not completed and only five prints are known. The title refers to a game in which people would gather at night to tell scary stories, putting out a candle after each tale until the room was completely dark. These small-format works feature a bright-blue color made possible by Berlin blue pigment (often called “Prussian blue”), which had become affordable shortly before their production. Although this hue may seem cheery to us, Hokusai’s original audience would have associated it with death and the occult. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗

The Rush Gatherer, from the series A True Mirror of Chinese and Japanese Poetry

Katsushika Hokusai — 1834

The subject of this design may be related to a 1309 poem that contains the following lines: When I was cutting horse-tails The autumn moon appeared, Shining through the trees on Mount Sonahara.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

The Minister Toru Daijin Standing by a Lake Beneath a Crescent Moon, from the series A True Mirror of Chinese and Japanese Poetry

Katsushika Hokusai — 1834

A high-ranking minister, Toru (822–895) was the son of an emperor. In this scene, he enjoys the company of two other men in his landscape garden overlooking the water. Here Hokusai may have illustrated a poem by Toru that mentions boats floating on the water in bright moonlight, shaded by the pines.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

Poem by Minamoto no Muneyuki from the series One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets Explained by the Nurse

Katsushika Hokusai — 1835

Katsushika Hokusai designed this print series from the perspective of a confused nurse attempting to illustrate classical poetry but missing the subtle allusions. This interpretation creates what would have been considered a comical disconnect between poem and image. The poem on this print reads as follows: In the mountain village, it is in winter that my loneliness increases most, when I think of how both have dried up, the grasses and people’s visits. —Translation by Joshua Mostow While nobleman Minamoto no Muneyuki (died 939) wrote of dying grasses, the nurse imagines instead a lively scene of hunters warming themselves around a fire.

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

Poem by Emperor Sanjo, from the series One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets Explained by an Old Nurse

Katsushika Hokusai — 1835

A priest raises a gohei , a ritual implement with zig-zag strips of white paper attached to a staff, while the surrounding figures reverentially bow in a moonlit ceremony honoring Emperor Sanjo (976–1017, reigned 1012–16).

Collection: The Cleveland Museum of Art · CC0 · Source image ↗

A Peasant Crossing a Bridge, from the series A True Mirror of Chinese and Japanese Poems

Katsushika Hokusai — 1835

An old peasant returns from gathering the two bundles of horsetail rushes, which hang from a pole across his shoulder. Of the various poems about gathering rushes in the old anthologies, it is thought that Hokusai had in mind this poem from a 1303 collection: When I was cutting horsetails The autumn moon appeared Shining through the trees On Mount Sonahara. (Translated by Matthi Forrer) In this series of ten prints, the relevant poem was not included in the design. Instead, the artist challenged the Edo audience’s love of puzzles. Viewers enjoyed determining the source of a poem and its author. Text: Art Institute of Chicago, CC BY 4.0

Collection: The Art Institute of Chicago · CC0 · Source image ↗