Kasumgaseki c. 1832 - 1834

Editor: Here we have "Kasumigaseki," a woodblock print in ink and water colours by Utagawa Hiroshige, created around 1832-1834. I'm immediately struck by the hazy, almost dreamlike quality of the scene. What story do you think Hiroshige is trying to tell? Curator: Oh, it's less about a story and more about capturing a mood, a moment in time. It reminds me of how a haiku works, you know? It uses just a few carefully chosen images—the strolling figures with their umbrellas, the distant city skyline—to evoke a larger feeling. Editor: A feeling of what, though? Curator: Well, for me, it’s a sense of melancholy, but also resilience. Look at the delicate snow, or rain—it’s hard to tell—and how the people carry on despite it. And notice that distant skyline. Can you make it out? Editor: A little… there seems to be some vague indication of towers off in the distance. Curator: Precisely! It reminds us that this isn’t just a quaint historical scene. Even back then, the city was ever-present, ever-encroaching, like a constant hum in the background of daily life. Don’t you think that this work could fit seamlessly with something contemporary and be eerily relatable? Editor: I do now! It's like those days where you're rushing around but manage to steal a quick, beautiful glance up at the sky, like in "Kasumigaseki," but it makes me think, are we too busy to notice these beautiful things? Curator: Maybe... and maybe that’s exactly what Hiroshige was trying to whisper to us, all those years ago. Maybe we should frame that haiku.