Miya 1906

Curator: Here we have Utagawa Hiroshige's "Miya", a woodcut print from 1906, residing in the esteemed Rijksmuseum. It depicts a bustling scene along the Tōkaidō road. Editor: It strikes me as frantic, almost absurd. The elongated figures, frozen in mid-stride, and the monochrome palette create an unnerving yet compelling image. What is the effect here, beyond mere scene-setting? Curator: It is less the "what" and more the "how." Observe the masterful use of line. Each contour defines form and directs the viewer's gaze, contributing to the overall dynamic tension of the composition. See how the receding figures become increasingly abstract. Editor: Yes, but consider the laborious production involved. This isn't simply about aesthetics. Woodblock printing demanded collaboration, division of labor – the artist, the carver, the printer each contributing their skill. Their efforts result in the multiplication of the same scene, available for mass consumption. Curator: Of course, the socio-economic context cannot be dismissed entirely, but focusing solely on production ignores the inherent artistry. Note the use of color. The limited palette emphasizes the narrative, pushing it towards symbolism rather than straightforward representation. Editor: I disagree. To overlook the materials and their cultural implications would be remiss. This is cheap production – easily accessed. I am more drawn to how that impacts what the image represents. Curator: Perhaps we both approach this work from valid, if different, perspectives. I'm drawn to the structure of the forms while you connect it to a world beyond the surface. Editor: Indeed. Reflecting on “Miya”, it is this intersection between aesthetic skill and tangible reality, the coming together of maker and material, which remains with me. It makes you wonder about all those hands that went into creating it.