Art Eyewitness Review: Firing the Imagination: Japanese Influence on French Ceramics, 1860-1910 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

 

Firing the Imagination:
Japanese Influence on French Ceramics, 1860-1910

Philadelphia Museum of Art

 August 31, 2024-August 17, 2015

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Original Photography by Anne Lloyd

Firing the Imagination is an intriguing exhibition which surveys the influence of Japanese artistic conventions on French ceramics during the age of Impressionism. Currently on view in the Colket Gallery of the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA), the exhibit provides new insights on the impact of Japonisme on decorative arts and craft, rather than exclusively on Impressionist painting.

The Colket Gallery, I recently discovered, is named for Tristram Colket, a  grandson of John Dorrance, the Campbell's Soup Company founder. Mr. Colket, who died in 2020, was a generous supporter of numerous worthy causes. But he was quiet, low-keyed benefactor, whose name did not often figure in newspaper headlines or advertisements. 

By a curious twist of circumstance, a similar lack of name recognition applies to the ceramic artists whose exquisite works are displayed in Firing the Imagination.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Art works from the Firing the Imagination exhibit.

 At left, is a vase made by Théodore Deck & decorated by Marie-Caroline-Eléonore Escallier, c. 1870; at right, is a vase by Auguste Jean, 1885

Claude Monet, Edgar Degas and Paul Cezanne need no introduction. The same does not hold true for the remarkably long list of "potters" whose plates, vases, bowels and jardinieres grace the walls and display cases of the Colket Gallery. 

Edmund Lachenal, Ernest Chaplet, Joseph-Théodore Deck, Albert-Louis Dammouse - do these names sound familiar? Until I began visiting Firing the Imagination, I am chagrined to admit that I had not heard of a single one of these masters of art pottery.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

A selection of ceramic plates decorated with Japanese motifs, made in France by Felix Bracquemond and the J. Viellard Co., c. 1875-1880.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition,

 showing a display of works by Edmund Lachenal, Léon Parvillée and other French ceramic artists of the late 19th century

How these beautiful Japanese-inspires ceramics found their way to the Colket Gallery is a fascinating story. It is a brilliant instance of "niche' collecting.

A New Jersey school teacher named Larry A. Simms focused his attention and financial resources on building a representative collection of works by overlooked Belle Epoque ceramic artists. With commendable generosity, Mr. Simms has donated much of his collection to the PMA. This is a major addition to the Philly Museum's impressive holdings of French nineteenth century art, brilliantly complementing its Impressionist paintings and Rodin sculptures.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition

 in the Philadelphia Museum of Art's Colket Gallery

Of the artists collected by Simms, only one approaches the renown of the Impressionist painters. This is Felix Bracquemond, whose major claim to fame is his role as one of France's leading print makers. Bracquemond also designed Japonisme-inspired dinnerware including the "Parisian" and  "Rousseau" dinner services. Both are on view in the exhibit. Yet Bracquemomd's work in ceramics is often accorded only minimal attention. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Gallery view of Firing the Imagination, with ceramic dinner ware, designed by Felix Bracquemond & others displayed on the walls.

Why painters, especially those working in oils, should be accorded precedence above artists engaged in other media is a question too weighty to be discussed here. But one aspect of the debate should be noted. Ceramic artists devoted themselves to a very dangerous form of creative enterprise. Until the 1970's, the glazes used to paint the various types of ceramic ware were lead-based. Inhaling the fumes during the heating process or touching dust-covered surfaces in the work room have claimed many a potter's life. 

Creating ceramics, therefore, is not a genteel, leisure pursuit. Even in today's safer conditions, it is an exacting discipline. There is plenty of hard labor involved and "brain work" too. One of the thematic displays of Firing the Imagination deals with the difficulty of using volatile, hard-to-control red glazes. 

As the exhibit wall text notes, European artists and chemists made concerted efforts during the late nineteenth century to "replicate the prized colors and surface effects of Japanese and Chinese ceramics." They were especially determined to match the deep red brown which the French called sang de boeuf, ox-blood.

Ernest Chaplet (1835-1909) led the way in developing a durable sang de boeuf glaze, for which he won a gold medal at the 1889 Paris World's Fair. Chaplet was a major innovator in the science of ceramics, though it should be noted that trying to get "just the right tone" of red still poses a challenge for potters.

A strikingly modern porcelain vase by Chaplet, drenched in sang de boeuf and dating close to the time of his award-winning success, is on view in the exhibition. If asked to date this magnificent vase, I would have thought that it had been created during the 1990's - or just yesterday!

Ernest Chaplet, Porcelain vase with sang de boeuf glaze, c. 1889

Equally impressive are examples of small vases which were glazed with traces of sang de boeuf, used to accentuate the other glaze hues. When such subtle color effects were applied to simplified, yet elegantly shaped pieces, as shown below, a true liberation of color and form occurred. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

A selection of small vases, glazed with accents of sang-de-boeuf. The vase, second from left, was made by Théodore Deck. All others were created by Albert-Louis Dammouse.

There are several dramatic story lines to Firing the Imagination which the wall texts explain in cogent and understandable terms. The ceramic objects d'art which we see in the exhibition testify to experiments in science, especially chemistry, as well as attempts to represent nature in tangible formats similar to what the Impressionist painters were doing in two dimensions. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Glazed-stoneware dish, made by Albert-Louis Dammouse, c. 1900

A perfect illustration of this desire to "honor" nature is a glazed-stoneware dish, shaped like a lily-pad. It was created by Albert-Louis Dammouse around 1900, at the same time that Claude Monet was laying-out his water-gardens at Giverny. 

It is ironic that the French ceramics displayed in Firing the Imagination should have played an important role in the rise of the aesthetic of Modernism. It did not start out that way back in the 1860's when Japanese prints, followed soon after by Japanese craft objects, first reached Europe. 

Page view from Hokusai Gafu, vol. 1, 1849, an important source book for French artists, including Albert-Louis Dammouse & Felix Bracquemond

The amazement and exhilaration of European artists and the art-appreciating public in the West was so intense upon seeing the "floating world" images of Hokusai and Hiroshige that the immediate reaction was simply to imitate Japanese art. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Plate made by Albert-Louis Dammouse, c. 1874, 

with decorative imagery based on a drawing by Hokusai, 1849

As a consequence of this enthusiasm for the art of  the "land of the rising sun", many of the ceramic plates and vases on view in Firing the Imagination appear to be authentically Japanese. In fact, not one was made in Japan. All are examples of French decorative art, though very much in l'esprit du Japon. 

In the case of the design for the parasol-carrying Japanese lady, Albert-Louis Dammouse borrowed this directly from a book of Katsushika Hokusai's prints (shown above). This book was the Hokusai Gafu, Volume 1, published in 1849. This publication date is important because it preceded the arrival of the U.S. Navy squadron which "opened" Japan's doors to the West in 1853. 

Hokusai Gafu was intended for a Japanese audience but it was perfectly timed to "fire" the imagination of Albert-Louis Dammouse, who transposed the parasol-carrying lady from a rainy landscape to a sparkling, blossom-strewn dinner plate.

Felix Bracquemond was similarly smitten by Hokusai's image and he lifted it, almost without alteration to the elegant vase below. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Japanese masters like Hokusai should have been very flattered.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Felix Bracquemond's Vase, c. 1875

Real artists of talent and vision are never content to merely imitate. Very soon, French artists were drawing upon the Japanese aesthetic to create new art forms. Some of these, like the sang de boeuf-glazed vases, discussed earlier, helped set the trajectory of decorative arts towards the future.

Other French artists like Edmund Lachenel and Léon Parvillée, used Japanese motifs as a passport to realms of whimsy and wonderment that defy precise categorization - and are all the more enjoyable for just that reason. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

From left, Léon Parvillée's Figure of a Guardian Lion, c. 1880;

 Edmund Lachenal's Vase, c. 1885

Léon Parvillée was a multi talented French architect who worked in the Middle East for many years, restoring historic buildings. Parvillée's spirited rendition of a Chinese guardian lion, popularly known as a "fu dog", certainly captured the ethos of the orient. But closer inspection reveals more than a touch of Gallic bravado in this feisty temple guard. The brilliant handling of the blue and yellow glazes is impressive, as well.

What Edmund Lachenal (1855-1930) intended to represent with the cheerfully bizarre vase, shown to the right of Parvillée's fu dog, is anyone's guess. The vase, shaped like a bottle gourd, was created around 1885. A gourd of the type known in Japan as a hyotan, it is symbolical of longevity and success. 

The two winged dragons, squaring-off on the gleaming blue surface of the vase are perhaps more indicative of the deep interior well into which Lachenal cast for ideas and inspiration. The winged-dragons are an indelible icon of East Asia, but here, in Lachenal's treatment, they breathe the air - and fire - of his French imagination.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Edmund Lachenal's Vase (detail), c. 1885

From a conventional potter's apprenticeship, with Théodore Deck, Lachenel went on to become France's leading Art Nouveau potter. His individuality and originality could not be contained, even by the vast riches of Japonisme. 

The "show-stopper" of Firing the Imagination demonstrates to perfection how Lachenal and his colleagues drew inspiration from Japanese art and then in a process of personal alchemy - which is the essence of all art - created something new, something magical, something unforgettable.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024)

Edmund Lachenal's Vase in the Form of a Lantern, c. 1895

Lachenal's Vase in the Form of a Lantern is an homage to Japanese art and culture. But it is also a personal statement and a manifesto on behalf of all artists. Lachenal shows here that inspiration is only the beginning. Like the cheeky little bat hovering over the lantern's crinkled surface, Edmund Lachenal was determined to flap his creative wings - and did.

Thanks to the collecting genius and generosity of Larry Sims and this remarkable exhibition at the PMA, a vital chapter of French art has been brought to life. Little known ceramic artists have finally been given their due. And the imaginations of those fortunate to visit the Colket Gallery have been touched with fire.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                                   

Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd

Unless otherwise noted. all art works are from the Philadelphia Museum of Art Collection, by gift of Mr. Larry A. Simms

Introductory Image: Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Art works from the Firing the Imagination exhibit. At left, is a vase made by Théodore Deck & decorated by Marie-Caroline-Eléonore Escallier, c. 1870. Earthenware with underglaze and enamel decoration: 10 ½ x 9 7/8 inches (26.7 x 25.1 cm); at right, is a vase by Auguste Jean, 1885. Glazed earthenware. Larry A. Simms collection.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) A selection of ceramic plates decorated with Japanese motifs, made in France by Felix Bracquemond and the J. Viellard Co., c. 1875-1880.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition, showing a display of works by Edmund Lachenal, Léon Parvillée and other French ceramic artists of the late 19th century

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition in the Philadelphia Museum of Art's Colket Gallery.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Gallery view of Firing the Imagination, with ceramic dinner ware, designed by Felix Bracquemond & others displayed on the walls.

Ernest Chaplet (French,1835-1909) Porcelain vase with sang de boeuf glaze, c. 1889. Porcelain: 11 ¾ x 10 x 10 inches ( 29.8 x 25.4 x 25.4 cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art photo.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) A selection of small vases, glazed with accents of sang-de-boeuf. The vase, second from left, was made by Théodore Deck (Porcelain: 6 x 4 inches (15.2 x 10.2 cm.). All others were created by Albert-Louis Dammouse.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Glazed-stoneware dish, made by Albert-Louis Dammouse, c. 1900. Diameter: 13 3/4 inches (34.9 cm)

Katsushika Hokusai Page view from Hokusai Gafu, vol. 1, 1849, an important source book for French artists, including Albert-Louis Dammouse & Felix Bracquemond. Open access image from Smithsonian digital library book.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Plate made by Albert-Louis Dammouse, c. 1874, with decorative imagery based on a drawing by Hokusai, 1849. Hard paste porcelain:  (diameter) 9 1/2 inches (24.1 cm)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Felix Bracquemond's Vase, c. 1875. Made for Haviland & Co. Limoges, France.  Porcelain with hand-painted transfer images. Larry A. Simms collection.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) From left, Léon Parvillée's Figure of a Guardian Lion, c. 1880, Glazed earthenware: 8 1/4 × 9 × 5 inches (20.9 × 22.9 × 12.7 cm); Edmund Lachenal's Vase, c. 1885. Glazed earthenware: 17 3/4 × 8 3/4 × 7 inches (45.1 × 22.2 × 17.8 cm)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Edmund Lachenal's Vase (detail), c. 1885

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Edmund Lachenal's Vase in the Form of a Lantern, c. 1895. Height: 11 1/4 inches (28.6 cm)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2024) Gallery view of the Firing the Imagination exhibition in the Philadelphia Museum of Art's Colket Gallery

 

 

Art Eyewitness Review: Kabuki Prints at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

Scandal and Virtue: Staging Kabuki in Osaka Prints

Philadelphia Museum of Art

 On view until July 24, 2023

Reviewed by Ed Voves                                                                                

Original photography by Anne Lloyd

The word "Kabuki" refers to the hugely popular theater productions which flourished in Japan during the Edo period, 1615-1868. Kabuki plays continue to be highly regarded today, despite competition from films and television.

In contemporary Western usage, "Kabuki" has taken on an ironic meaning. People frequently use the word as synonym for political posturing and disingenuous election promises. Watch a presidential debate on television and it won't be long before the thought springs to mind or is ruefully uttered, "this is just kabuki."

The misappropriation of Kabuki is not just an instance of a word being "lost in translation." Rather, it is a fascinating case of how language and art change shape and appearance to fit the political and social circumstances of the times. In pre-modern Japan, Kabuki theater took on connotations and implied criticisms which the Shogun rulers of the nation looked on with disfavor - sometimes violently so. 

The Philadelphia Museum of Art has been mounting a very fine exhibition of the woodblock prints created to celebrate Kabuki productions and performers during the Edo period.  On view since April 2023, it has a couple of weeks left and is not to be missed.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Detail of Osaka Woodcut Triptych Print by Konishi Hirosada (1851)

Kabuki plays were lavishly mounted productions, incorporating music, mime, colorful costumes and extravagant make-up. Both drama and comedy were incorporated into the plays and the public responded with passionate "fan" acclaim.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Kabuki fan album showing Osaka Woodcut Prints of leading actors 

The most attentive observation of Kabuki theater, however, came not from the enthusiastic audience but from government agents and censors. The ruling military elite of Japan, the Tokugawa shoguns, regarded Kabuki theater as a menace to the established political order. Kabuki plays might be tolerated but never ignored.

The Tokugawa shogunate also closely monitored the production of woodcut prints celebrating Kabuki plays and actors. The Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) has one of the greatest collections of Kabuki prints outside of Japan. In 2008, a major donation of 525 Kabuki prints was made by Jack Shear in honor of Anne D'Harnoncourt, the beloved PMA director who died that year. Many of these are on view in the present exhibition. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Detail of Nakamura Utaemon IV (right) as the farmer Yasuka; Mimasu Baisha I as Senzaki Yagoro (left) by Konishi Hirosada (1851)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Scene from a Kabuki Play by Utagawa Kunisada (1858).

These spectacular color prints, also called Osaka prints, were created in the Kamigata region of Japan, which centers on the city of Osaka. The Tokugawa shoguns ruled from Edo (modern-day Tokyo) and were vigilant in preventing these theatrical pictures from being printed in the capital. It was impossible to stop the wide-spread circulation of these Osaka prints but that did not stop the warlords of Japan from trying.

Why the shoguns were so vigilant in regards to Kabuki theater can only be briefly sketched here. When the Samurai warlord, Tokugawa Ieyasua gained victory in the civil wars of the early 1600's, he closed the port cities of Japan to foreign ships - except for one Dutch vessel per year - and foreign ideas. A similarly repressive, though not quite so drastic, code of conduct was instituted for the domestic society in the "home islands" of Japan.

In Japanese, the word Kabuki denoted "unorthodox" or "unusual" behavior. If there is one absolute of militaristic regimes around the world it is their suspicion of anything smacking of nonconformity.

The seriousness - and severity - of the Tokugawa shogunate toward the Kabuki theater was notably displayed in a mid-19th century incident. This cause celebre involved Ichikawa Danjuro VII (1791-1859), one of the greatest Kabuki actors of all time. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Ichikawa Danjuro VII as Chichbu Shoji Shigetada 

 by Utagawa Kunisada (c. 1821)

A famous child actor in one of the leading theatrical families, Ichikawa Danjuro VII later specialized in playing epic hero roles. He helped to create the established repertoire of the eighteen greatest Kabuki plays or Kabuki Juhachiban. None of these achievements could save him from the fury of the Shogunate when he committed the major transgression of using real Samurai military gear and weapons (as opposed to stage props) in an 1842 play. He was arrested and exiled from the capital city of Edo. Furthermore, his mansion was destroyed as a warning to other actors.

There was no "kabuki" in the Shogun's policy toward the Kabuki theater.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Onoe Kikugoro III as the Ascetic Priest Nakasaina & Ichikawa Ebizo V   as Nippon Daemon, by Konishi Hirosada (1848)

Kabuki theater is a fascinating, if extremely complicated, subject (at least to uninitiated Americans like myself). One of the factors which makes it difficult to grasp the details of Kabuki history is the influence of acting dynasties. These  played a dominant role, recycling the same or similar stage names for their members. 

An example is the Arashi “family” of actors, each bearing “Arashi” as part of their stage names, which were handed down across the generations as an almost sacred inheritance.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

A Kabuki actor of the Arashi dynasty, Arashi Kitsusaburo I

The Arashi actors included blood relations and unrelated disciples. Periodically, they would change part of their stage name, the form depending on theatrical conventions.  Arashi Kichisaburo II (1769-1821) was also known as Arashi Rikan. In March 1821, he changed his name to Arashi Kitsusaburo I.

How to keep the “cast” of Arashi actors straight? The hugely popular prints made in Osaka were just the ticket, especially since these prints were regarded as cherished collectables. Kabuki fans often bequeathed their prints to family members, much as acting families passed down stage names.

 

   

  Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Arashi Kichisaburo II & Nakamura Utaemon III

by Shunkosai Hokushu (1820)

The above print shows Arashi Kichisaburo II (aka Kitsusaburo I) facing-off against his great acting rival, Nakamura Utaemon III. These two actors detested each other's acting style, with Arashi emphasizing realism in contrast to Utaemon's flashy technique. They refused to act together until their respective fan clubs arranged an elaborate dinner party in 1821. The two leading men agreed to share the stage in a joint production, but the long-anticipated event never occurred. Arashi Kitsusaburo I died suddenly in September 1821.

The manner in which the acting dynasties passed down their stage names - and, no doubt, acting tips - recalls the parallel lives of the Japanese landscape artists, the Kano school, which existed from the 1500's to the early twentieth century. Each painter was known by a variation of the Kano name, Kano Tan'yu (1602-1674), Kano Hogai (1828-1888), etc.

Japan, by holding the foreign world at bay through the Sakoku exclusion policy, created a very unusual social dynamic, of which Kabuki theater was part. But in one important respect, Kabuki reflected developments thousands of miles away in vastly different societies: namely in the narrowing sphere it gave to participation by women.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Parody of Kurumabiki; Four Famous Beauties Enacting the

 Oxcart Scene by Kitagawa Utamaro (1793)

In the Western world, during the 1600's through the mid-1800's, the Scientific Revolution created many professional opportunities  - for men. Women, during the Middle Ages had traditionally acted as healers and mid-wives. As science and medicine became more institutionalized, women were marginalized.

So too, in Kabuki.  Incredibly, Kabuki theater was founded by a woman named Okuni early in the 1600's. Okuni was an attendant at the Shinto shrine at Izumo. She was most likely a dancer, hence her title as a miko, or shrine maiden.  

Okuni soon demonstrated organizational, as well as acting, skill. She recruited a female acting troup whose performances were heavily laced with eroticism. These were a big hit with the Japanese populace, reeling from the endless Samurai wars, but not with the shoguns.

In 1629, in one of its early repressive measures, the Tokugawa shogunate banished women actors from the stage. This decree was proclaimed for the sake of "public morality". But this was kabuki in the modern sense, as the Tokugawa shogunate was the major sponsor of Yoshiwari, the "red-light" sex-trade center. 

 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Detail of Yamashita Kinsaku IV as Yasuke's wife, Okayo

by Konishi Hirosada (1851)

When we look at the numerous woodblock prints of Kabuki "actresses" on the gallery walls of the Philadelphia Museum exhibit, what we see are pictures of onnagata, male actors who specialized in portraying women.

During the Mejii Restoration which modernized Japan during the late 1800's, women actresses were permitted back on the stage of Kabuki theater but few availed themselves of the opportunity. Kabuki acting today, for the most part, remains a male profession.

Scandal and Virtue: Staging Osaka Prints at the Philadelphia Museum of Art is a fantastic exhibition. It is the latest of many fine Asian art exhibits at the PMA. I have been to see these Kabuki prints at least three times, learning more each time and I hope to return for at least one more visit. 

Ironically, the great "lesson" that I have learned from repeatedly viewing these wonderful prints is to look at them primarily for their intrinsic human values, while reserving the details of style and composition for later consideration.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Fifth Month: Ichikawa Ebizo V as Takechi Mitsuhide

 by Konishi Hirosada (1848)

There is something primal about Kabuki or Osaka prints, totally appealing on a basic emotional level. You don't have to "know" much about Japanese history or culture - though of course it helps - in order to appreciate these strange, yet compelling, people.  

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Arashi Kichisaburo II as Yojiro, a Monkey Leader 

 by Urakusai Nagahide (1798)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

 Nakamura Utaemon III as a Dancing Beggar (detail)

by Asayama Ashikuni (1817)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) 

Jitsukawa Ensaburo as Sakuramaru by Konishi Hirosada (1851)

Just who is the fellow carrying a monkey on his shoulder? Who is the semi-clad man with a strand of rope around his hair? Who is the well-armed swordsman and why does he look so alarmed?

Answers to these questions can be found in the fascinating, complex history of Kabuki. But there is a simpler, more meaningful way to identify these amazing characters. Look closely at them and keep looking. You will see them before long as they really are - people like us.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves. Original Photos: Copyright of Anne Lloyd

Introductory image: Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Onoe Tamizo II as Sasaki Takatasuna by Konishi Hirosada (1849) Color woodcut, center panel of triptych: 9 3/4 x 7 inches (24.8 x 17.8 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Detail of Osaka Woodcut Triptych Print by Konishi Hirosada (1851) Color woodcut triptych (left panel showing actors , Yamashita Kinsaku IV & Nakamura Daikichi I) 9 15/16 x 21 ½ inches (25.2 x 54.6 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Kabuki fan album showing Osaka Woodcut Prints of leading actors.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Detail of Nakamura Utaemon IV (right) as the farmer Yasuka; Mimasu Baisha I as Senzaki Yagoro (left) by Konishi Hirosada (1851) Color woodcut (overall) 9 ¾ x 21 inches (24.8 x 53.3 cm)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Scene from a Kabuki Play by Utagawa Kunisada (1858). Color woodcut diptych: (each) 14 1/8 x 9 ¾ inches (35.9 x 24.8 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Ichikawa Danjuro VII as Chichbu Shoji Shigetada by Utagawa Kunisada (c. 1821). Color woodcut triptych (center panel): 14 15/16 x 10 1/8 inches (37.9 x 25.7 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Onoe Kikugoro III as the Ascetic Priest Nakasaina & Ichikawa Ebizo V as Nippon Daemon by Konishi Hirosada (1851). Color woodcut: 7 x 9 3/4 inches (17.8 x 24.8 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) A Kabuki actor of the Arashi dynasty, Arashi Kitsusaburo I (detail) by Saikotei Shibakuni (1821). Color woodcut: 14 9/16 x 10 ¼ inches (37 x 26 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Arashi Kichisaburo II and Nakamura Utaemon III by Shunkosai Hokushu (1820). Color woodcut: 15 9/16 x 10 inches (39.5 x 25.5 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Parody of Kurumbiki; Four Famous Beauties Enacting the Oxcart Scene by Kitagawa Utamaro (1793) Color woodcut: 13 x 16 7/8 inches (33 x 42.9 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Detail of Yamashita Kinsaku IV as Yasuke's Wife, Okayo by Konishi Hirosada (1851). For measurements see above: Nakamura Utaemon IV (right) as the farmer Yasuka and Mimasu Baisha I as Senzaki Yagoro. Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Fifth Month: Ichikawa Ebizo V as Takechi Mitsuhide by Konishi Hirosada (1848). Color woodcut: 9 3/4 x 7 inches (24.8 x 17.8 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Arashi Kichisaburo II as Yojiro, a Monkey Leader (Detail)  by Urakusai Nagahide (1798). Stencil colored woodcut: 13 5/8 inches (34.7 x 14.9 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Nakamura Utaemon III as a Dancing Begger (Detail) by Asayama Ashikuni (1817).  Color woodcut (part of sheet): 10 x 28 1/4 inches ( 25.4 x 71.8 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2023) Jitsukawa Ensaburo as Sakuramaru by Konishi Hirosada (1851). Left panel of color woodcut triptych: 9 15/16 x 22 inches ( 25.2 x 55.9 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art