De elegante prins Genji te Suma 1853

Editor: This is “The Elegant Prince Genji at Suma,” a woodblock print from 1853 by Utagawa Hiroshige I, here at the Rijksmuseum. The colors are so delicate, and the Prince looks… well, maybe a little melancholic? What do you see in it? Curator: Ah, Genji! Yes, melancholy hangs about him like the sea mist clinging to those distant islands. Hiroshige isn't just painting a portrait, he's crafting an emotion. Notice how Genji's vibrant kimono, all floral explosions, clashes gently with the muted seascape? He's a splash of colour amidst his exile, a poem in a lonely landscape. And that fan… do you see the dragonfly? Editor: Vaguely, yes. It’s a small detail. Curator: Exactly! Dragonflies are summer creatures, emblems of fleeting beauty. Is Genji longing for a season that’s passed, a life he can’t reclaim? Or maybe the artist includes it as an irony; dragonflies were popular for their association with martial success, given that they never retreated; in this composition Genji may need their luck! What a subtle visual cue for a noble out of his depth. Do you get that sense? Editor: I see what you mean. I didn’t catch that at all initially, but thinking of the title, I see that contrast between his status and… well, what he's actually doing. I’m now spotting the subtle landscape work, the tree and bridge on either side acting as bookends to his forlorn state. Curator: It is a perfect blend of story and scenery, a reminder that even in exile, art – and elegance – can bloom. Beauty finds a way. Even in the deepest blues, wouldn’t you say? Editor: Absolutely. Thanks for pointing out so much nuance. I would have missed those telling details. I now realise this is more than just a picture of a Prince; there's so much complexity at work.