Tawaraya Tōda and a Dragon; Ono no Komachi Praying for Rain 1868

Editor: So, this striking woodblock print, titled "Tawaraya Tōda and a Dragon; Ono no Komachi Praying for Rain", dates back to 1868 and is by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. It’s divided down the middle, but what really jumps out at me is the intense, almost frantic energy. What do you make of it? Curator: Frantic is a fantastic word! To me, this diptych feels like a dream – or maybe a nightmare. On one side, you’ve got Tōda, all strength and stillness amidst this swirling dragon. On the other, Komachi is a picture of elegant desperation, seeking divine intervention. Perhaps Yoshitoshi is saying something about different paths to power, about controlling chaos versus pleading with it? Which do you think feels most effective, visually? Editor: That's an interesting idea, pitting them against each other. I guess Tōda seems more effective, visually at least – the dragon is quite literally in his grasp! It feels like there is so much more motion in Tōda's picture, with the curling water and snake wrapping around his body, it nearly jumps off the print! Curator: Absolutely! And isn't the line work exquisite? You can almost feel the scales of that dragon. But also notice the bold colors. Yoshitoshi wasn’t afraid to make a statement, was he? These weren't just illustrations; they were social commentary disguised as legend, I'd say. Maybe we can't ever really be still when crisis unfolds around us... Food for thought. Editor: Definitely! I came in thinking it was just a cool historical piece, but I'm walking away pondering my own way of facing chaos! Curator: Exactly! Isn't it brilliant how art, even from centuries ago, can still spark that kind of reflection? It's like having a conversation across time.