The World of Ukiyo-e

You walk into a souvenir shop after a tepid, humid day strolling around Tokyo. Immediately, you spot scenic landscapes flushed with bold, bright colors, strewn across stickers, postcards, sensu (cooling fans), and maybe even on the clothing of a well-dressed plushie.

These landscapes, depicted through fine line-work, are showcased through an art form known as Ukiyo-e.  Ukiyo-e refers to a Japanese art style that grew in popularity during Japan’s Edo period (1603 to 1867). Over time, the meaning of the word has varied, it originates from the Buddhist expression “ukiyo” which can be translated to “the transient and sorrowful world” or “world of sorrow”, however the Japanese term “ukiyo-e” can be translated to “pictures of the floating world” in English.

The idea of a “floating world” comes from the detachment between ordinary people and prominent entertainment figures, who are commonly depicted in ukiyo-e art. These figures are usually from the entertainment world, and consist of “popular kabuki actors, sumo wrestlers and geisha” (https://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2291.html).

It’s typical for ukiyo-e art to depict scenic spots in Japan; one of the most famous paintings depicting Mt. Fuji in the background is “The Great Wave of Kanagawa” by Katsushika Hokusai.

 Initially, ukiyo-e art was made using sumi, black ink used for line work in calligraphy, and color was added to the paintings later. However, this shifted to a new form: woodblock printing; this technique was important in the notion that it allowed mass production, which also meant affordability, making the printing style suitable for an advancing economic society during the Edo Period.

There is an extensive process in producing woodblock prints, especially since they require the artist to collaborate with a publisher, along with talented block carvers and printers. Typically, a publisher requests a drawing from an artist, and the artist will proceed to draft a “hanshita-e”, a master drawing. Following this, the publisher will give the “hanishita-e” to a carver who will carve out a key block, known as the “omohan” in accordance with the master drawing. The “omohan” is crafted by carving a master drawing that is glued onto a block, reverse side up, and only the “contour lines” are carved out. Then, proof prints, “kyogo-zuri”, are printed from the key block; one proof print is made for each separate color that is necessary in creating the final print. 

Collaboration is essential within this process, because after the carver finishes with the “omohan” and the “kyogo-zuri” they will hand them over to the artist, who will determine the placement of the colors within the art based on the work of the carver. Once this is decided, the carver will then carve several color blocks, or “iroita”, in accordance with what the artist wants. When finished, a set of woodblocks will be handed to a printer through the publisher, and the printer will print the colors in the order of light to dark colors, resulting in the piece’s completion. This marks the completion of the print and its readiness to be replicated, making the art more accessible to the public.

One of the most famous ukiyo-e artists at the beginning of the nineteenth century was Hiroshige Utagawa, who has “created 8,000 prints of everyday life and landscape in Edo-period Japan with a splendid, saturated ambience”

(https://www.artic.edu/artists/34946/utagawa-hiroshige).

 Utagawa is known for his gorgeous line-work and his pieces that depict everyday Japanese life, from the sights of the Sumida River under the moonlight in his piece Tsukudajima Island from Eitai Bridge to a snowy day at a lumber storage in Fukagawa, depicted in The Lumber Yard at Fukagawa; both of which appear in his famous series “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo” published in 1856 . His artwork hints at Chinese influence with its intricate details and its focus on nature and landscape. He was paid little for his work, which resulted in a “prolific output” of art; nevertheless, passion and care ooze out of all of his works and leave spectators with much to digest and sit with. 

During the week of June 8th to the 14th, I was able to attend an exhibition at the Ota Memorial Museum of Art called Utagawa Hiroshige “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo”--His Final Challenge. Ukiyo-e pieces were carefully selected to be put on display for the exhibition. Upon walking into the art room, I was able to recognize the grouping of artwork underneath different artists famous during different time periods. There were many pieces from  Hiroshe Utagawa’s “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo”, which were particularly intriguing and fascinating to see in person. 

It’s common for pieces to be switched out throughout the years since many museums are concerned with the condition of the original artwork; keeping them on display 24/7 can cause susceptibility to light damage, therefore, they are stored and displayed specifically during special exhibitions or events. This is standard practice with Eastern artwork; rather than being on constant display as in Western societies, Eastern art is crafted for occasional spectation. Speaking of differences between Western and Eastern societies, I was intrigued by how artwork is viewed, or consumed, if you will, in Japan versus my home country. The States tend to be very fast-paced when it comes to everything, especially when it comes to the consumption of entertainment. People in the states tend to binge-watch shows, stay up playing through the latest RPG to completion, and photograph or move quickly through museums or even aquariums. There’s nothing wrong with this; it’s a way of life that makes survival in the States more doable and ensures a higher quality of life many times. For all I know, there are people in Eastern societies that do all of these things as well. It’s hard to apply these “differences” to a majority when people within society are complex themselves and don’t necessarily always follow convention. 

I know that I do all of these things, so I was pushed out of my comfort zone upon attending this exhibition in Harajuku. It seems like, at least from my experience, that locals tend to sit with a piece for a long time, rather than groups of people walking around or multiple people looking at one piece. Here, the art of viewing looks entirely different: there was what looked like a conveyor belt of art enthusiasts inside the art room, and most times, one person would be standing in front of a painting at a time, and for a long time. Oh, and not to mention that there wasn’t a single device in sight, pictures ceased to be taken by anyone in attendance. I was slightly frustrated by this as someone who loves to document everything literally, though I don’t believe pictures make experiences more memorable; I simply enjoy having something to look back at or even share with other people. 

As an anxious person, I was restless at first, and felt absurdly awkward: my eyes scanned the room every other minute to see if it was acceptable to move on or to examine the duration in which another individual would sit with a single painting at a time. I would look at the art, in what I thought was a thorough manner, and realized that I didn’t spend enough time enjoying the painting in relation to the people around me. Sure, enjoyment looks different for everyone, but I couldn’t help but to feel as though I was missing something by not sitting with a painting longer.

So I tried it. Was it difficult? Of course, I can barely go a minute without losing my mind waiting for an episode of a new show I’m watching to play next in the queue. It definitely posed a challenge, but as I moved through more and more paintings, it started to feel more natural. It felt natural enough to a point where my eyes started to glue themselves to each painting in contrast to scanning the room; the stillness carried a warmth to it, a heat that differs from that of being on the go and in constant motion all the time. 

I would like to say that this beautiful revelation hit me effortlessly, but I’m human and willing to admit that it took me a good while to actually come to this newfound appreciation due to such a stark difference in cultural upbringing. Despite that, upon viewing each painting (which took me about two hours), I was able to notice more and more details within each work that left me amazed with the intricacy and elegance of Ukiyo-e linework. Upon walking back out through the museum doors, I was welcomed with a peaceful quietness sitting in the air, and walked back to the train station with a much-needed detachment from the fast-paced world captured within my camera and a clear head ready to appreciate the one outside of it.  

Works Cited

Art Institute Chicago. “Utagawa Hiroshige.” The Art Institute of Chicago, www.artic.edu/artists/34946/utagawa-hiroshige.

Davis, Julie Nelson. Partners in Print: Artistic Collaboration and the Ukiyo-e Market. University of Hawai’i Press, 2015. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt13x1jkj. Accessed 20 June 2026.

Delbanco, Dawn. “Chinese Handscrolls - the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Metmuseum.org, Apr. 2008, www.metmuseum.org/essays/chinese-handscrolls.

“Japanese Woodblock Print Search - Ukiyo-e Search.” Ukiyo-E.org, ukiyo-e.org/.

“Ukiyo-e.” Www.japan-Guide.com, www.japan-guide.com/e/e2291.html.

Utagawa Hiroshige “One Hundred Famous Views of Edo” — His Final Challenge. Ota Memorial Museum of Art, Tokyo, 15 May–14 June 2026. 

“Utagawa Hiroshige Japanese Prints.” Ukiyo-E.org, 2026, ukiyo-e.org/artist/utagawa-hiroshige.