I consider myself quite fortunate to have been able to recently view an exhibition of one of the most famous artists of the 19th century - Katsushika Hokusai. Hokusai was a master of woodblock screen printing, and is widely known for creating the Great Wave off Kanagawa (shown below), and ushering in a great wave of interest in Japanese woodblock printing. This image has since become iconic of Japan, and is one of the most recognisable and reproduced images of the modern age - you can even find an emoji of it!
Having never heard of Hokusai before the exhibition, I cannot claim any sort of authority on this subject. Nonetheless, even viewed through amateur eyes, two things are strikingly apparent: the flawless composition of the images, and the breathtaking sense of movement captured within them. Of his most famous print, Van Gough is supposed to have said: “these waves are claws, the boat is caught in them, you can feel it”. And I have to agree with him. One cannot help but feel (however inaccurate it may be) that modern manga, well renknowned for its hyper-exaggerated representation of movement and action owes a considerable amount to this great master. Hokusai himself constructed a manga of sorts, and despite being called the Hokusai Manga, it was more of a handbook or manual for other graphic artists. A masterclass on capturing the flow and sense of movement of the human body. Printed on the pages are numerous displays of rowdy dancing - as if Hokusai was determined to capture the essense of movement - to understand it and allow others to understand it through his work.
As Scott MCcloud argues in Understanding Comics, one of the fundamental methods used by graphic novels and other visual storytelling media is to simplify or symbolise the complexities of the real world onto the medium. This success of this simplification or transformation depends on how readily we as the reader are able to determine or parse the representation. And by the time Hokusai has started work on his manga, he is a seasoned veteran of woodblock printing - having captured scores of men, women and children in the act of living their medieval Japanese lifestyles. Therefore, despite the relative simplicity of the prints, he is able to immediately bring forth a sense of action and a sent of being caught up in the moment - as if we were viewing his images from within the eye of a storm.
The exhibit displayed a substaintial body of his work, spanning multiple decades - and the crowds definitely dwindled after the first two decades as a severe case of art fatigue manifested itself in many a patron. I felt however that his later work was more enjoyable as his talents matured and he got over his love of Mount Fuji. Jokes, his prints with a Fuji backdrop are some of his best, as seen below. This image also shows his impressive ability to imbue his images with a natural symmetry (the arc of the boat and waves counterbalance the arc of the bridge) which contributes to one of his greatest strengths - composition.
Now, I do not claim to unserstand the art world at all, but the Japanese at the time considered woodblock printing to be an inferior artform - probably similar to how comics are viewed in the modern age. They viewed it as a medium mass consumed by the public and subject ti populism - appreciated by the masses, and representing the people - shorn of all the subtlety and thematic sensibilities of proper art - such as calligraphy and watercolour. The Eurpoeans (especially the Dutch), however appreciated woodblock printing for the technique and end result. Van Gough is said to be influenced considerably by Japanese woodblock printing.
My hope is that good art is recognised for what it is - wherever or however it appears. I realise this incredibly naive statement is the equivalent of saying “Why can’t everyone in the world just get along”. However, my point still stands - good art can appear in surprising places - whether it be in popular magazines mass printed in 17th century Japan, or a fast selling comic book series of the 21st century.