The War at Kagoshima 1877

Editor: Right, next up we have “The War at Kagoshima,” a woodblock print from 1877 by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. It's... chaotic! So much visual energy. I'm struck by the vibrant reds, which I presume are illustrating violence or maybe bravery? What do you make of it? Curator: Ah, chaos well observed! Yoshitoshi, in my mind, transforms what could be just another battle scene into a wild, passionate outpouring of conflicting emotions. The red...it pulses, doesn't it? Beyond valor or bloodshed, I wonder if it hints at the deep societal fractures ripping through Japan at this time? Does the diagonal slashing even resemble falling rain... as tears falling for the civil war of the time. What do you feel looking into it? Editor: Rain? I was so focused on the figures I totally missed that! I do feel kind of overwhelmed by it, which I guess mirrors what war must be like. It's a bit different to some of the more serene Ukiyo-e prints, which is kind of unexpected. Curator: Exactly. Most certainly Ukiyo-e can take the "peaceful and serene" label, this print rebels entirely. Almost as if the artist is inviting us not just to witness, but to *feel* the raw nerve of historical transformation. Almost feel and reflect on its scar as history. This to me goes beyond documenting a war; it's a poem to the turmoil of modernisation, if you ask me. Does it perhaps now seem any different now you see that? Editor: Definitely! The term 'poem' feels perfect; like he is lamenting but capturing history. So, I initially only saw chaos and aggression. But, now, understanding it as a response to modernization, that makes a big difference to me. It also feels melancholic in its beauty. Curator: Precisely, melancholic, so powerfully rendered in the wood, the water, and our interpretation. I, for one, appreciate your reflection Editor!