89. Moon Pine in Ueno 1857

Editor: This woodblock print, "Moon Pine in Ueno," crafted in 1857 by Utagawa Hiroshige, immediately strikes me with its bold composition. The dramatically curving pine branch dominates the foreground, framing the more distant landscape. It feels almost dreamlike. What's your interpretation of this rather unique framing device? Curator: That dramatic pine, it’s almost a character itself, isn’t it? For me, it speaks volumes about perspective. Hiroshige isn't just showing us Ueno; he's inviting us to *see* it through a specific, almost theatrical lens. This exaggerated foreground…it’s like peeking through nature's keyhole. The 'moon pine' becomes this quirky, imperfect, yet beautiful portal to the wider world. Does that resonate with your initial feeling? Editor: I see what you mean! It is a kind of filter, almost artificial, placed between us and the scene. Curator: Exactly. Consider how prevalent perfectly manicured gardens were, and the reverence afforded to age-old pines. Then reflect on ukiyo-e itself: capturing a fleeting moment, the “floating world”. Perhaps Hiroshige subtly critiques this notion of capturing, and perfect beauty itself, through the deliberate use of such a wild and prominent pine. It’s nature untamed. Editor: So the wildness of the pine underscores the more traditional scenery beyond? Curator: Perhaps. What does the colour palette evoke for you? Does that play into that contrast? Editor: The blues are calming and muted, contrasting that more turbulent pine trunk, bringing a sense of serenity to the distance… Almost balancing it all out. Curator: Precisely! It’s a visual conversation, this dialogue between wild foreground and tranquil distance. It almost gives me a little wink; are we looking at nature, or an idealized version? Perhaps both coexisting, bound together, like the wood and ink, on this printed page. Editor: That's fascinating! I'll never look at a landscape print the same way again. It's far more than just a pretty picture. Curator: It's an invitation to observe, question, and, ultimately, to feel something. And to bring your own “lens”, just as we did.