The Curfew at Dōjōji 1753 - 1773

Editor: Here we have Torii Kiyomitsu’s woodblock print, "The Curfew at Dōjōji," dating from the mid-18th century. It strikes me as a very rhythmic scene, almost like a musical score laid out on the steps. What significance do you find in the imagery presented here? Curator: The bell in the upper right corner immediately draws the eye, doesn't it? Consider that bell, and the title itself, which speaks of a curfew at a temple. Bells, throughout cultures, have often signalled important moments: warnings, celebrations, or, indeed, curfews. This piece speaks to cultural memory—a time structured by ritual, a life punctuated by the sounds of the temple. And the women are gathered precisely at the edge of permitted time. Editor: That’s fascinating! So the women performing…they are not just decorative? Curator: Not at all! Each gesture, each instrument holds weight. Consider the instruments they hold and play. This isn't random; these instruments and the narrative context tie the image to kabuki theatre, to a story laden with dramatic tension and perhaps even loss. What emotions do you sense emanating from this gathering on the temple steps? Editor: I get a sense of anticipation. They seem aware of something important. It makes me wonder what will happen when that bell finally rings. Curator: Exactly! Kiyomitsu masterfully captures that tension, that pregnant moment right before a turning point. Look at the flowing lines, echoing the uncertainty and transient nature of life itself within a set, yet confining, time. Editor: I see what you mean! I hadn't considered the deeper symbolic weight of the bell and the narrative, only the superficial scene of gathering, but I can sense it now, giving me more than just surface appreciation! Curator: And hopefully encouraging you to delve more deeply into the rich history of Ukiyo-e prints!