Collecting Modern Japanese Prints. Norman Tolman
from, the selection process can sometimes be difficult because the variations are minute. On the other hand, if there is only one copy to look at, comparison is irrelevant. Making an effort to look at prints in galleries and museums adds to one's knowledge and helps develop an eye for knowing what is excellent and what is mediocre. It is important for a budding collector to find a gallery with a good reputation for handling fine work, one whose taste in artists corresponds to that of the collector, and one whose staff is willing to be an educational source as well. There is no substitute for putting in the time simply to "look."
In addition to the works that are strictly numbered in the "limited edition" series, one may come across another notation at the bottom of a print, A.P. or AP for artist proof or E.A. for épreuve d'artiste. Originally the term artist proof simply meant a test or trial proof of the different stages in the printing process. Later it came to be called a bon à tirer, the artist's notation on the final proof indicating that the printer could then proceed, using that particular proof as the standard for printing the entire edition.
Nowadays the term has evolved to mean that artists by convention are allowed to make ten percent of their edition in the artist-proof category. Some artists number their proofs, as in A.P. 2/5, some use Roman numerals to indicate proofs, but there is no fixed rule. Some artists simply write A.P.
In general, the idea of artist proofs has some merit. The artist has A.P.'s to use as entries in biennials or for other exhibition purposes, to give as gifts, or for a reciprocal exchange with other artists. The temptation to abuse this system exists, however. There are a few artists who, upon discovering that a particular print has been wildly popular, will continue to make A.P.'s for the market as long as the demand lasts. Fortunately this is not a common practice among Japanese artists, but people who are interested in collecting should be aware of it. We find that we look at A.P.'s with a gimlet eye since we view the practice as a basically reprehensible one. Collectors who pay for a limited-edition, numbered print should not have their investment diluted by a plethora of A.P.'s manufactured by the occasional greedy and unscrupulous artist. As a result of this feeling, our gallery policy has been not to traffic in artist proofs at all.
As collectors we must confess that we have occasionally bought an A.P. because we loved the particular print and could not pass it by. Usually this has happened with the older prints of the sōsaku-hanga era, when the editions were quite small. As owners, however, we do not sell artist proofs in our galleries.
Along with the edition number at the bottom of the print, one is also likely to find the title and the artist's signature. One cannot generalize about these, however. Sometimes prints are not titled at all; some artists sign their name at the bottom but others use their personal seals; other artists do both, sign and chop.
Generally speaking, the edition number, title, and artist's signature are written in pencil at the bottom of the print. Why pencil? In the case of original prints, it seems to be the tradition worldwide but, of course, there are exceptions. We clearly remember that in the early days Saito Kiyoshi often signed his name in white ink on the image itself.
Another question often asked is why so many Japanese artists title their works in English. (We have noticed that those artists who have studied at the famous French ateliers also like to title their prints in French.) One immediate thought is that perhaps they feel it is exotic or chic. But the answer is more fundamental than that.
The first audience to recognize, love, and appreciate the artistry of Japanese prints has always been foreigners. The Japanese never considered their early ukiyo-e prints as "art." Only when the
Impressionists found them a source of inspiration, when Dutch, German, and French collectors began to lavish praise and actually buy them, and when the Americans began to collect seriously for the Boston Museum of Fine Arts did the Japanese begin to pay attention to their own prints.
The reason contemporary prints are almost always titled in Roman letters is related to this phenomenon, and history, not surprisingly, is repeating itself. It is a fact that again today it is foreigners—most galleries would estimate approximately eighty percent—who are the buyers of contemporary Japanese graphic art. Therefore, it is counterproductive for an artist to title his work in Japanese since most of his potential audience may not be able to read it.
Contemporary Japanese prints are still being bought on the international level by private collectors, museums, and galleries as fine examples of the most creative and sophisticated graphic art being produced today. But where are the Japanese buyers? There are a few, of course, who are aware of and appreciate what present-day artists are doing. They are among those whom one would call confident and knowledegable, and they deserve praise for having the courage of their convictions. Unfortunately there are not many of them. The average Japanese may be reluctant to say what he really likes for fear of being laughed at. He would rather go with world opinion for the tried-and-true masters because that view avoids embarrassment.
Great publicity in recent years has been given to those Japanese who have rushed to the various famous auction houses to buy Impressionist paintings at outrageously inflated prices. At the same time another group of Japanese, enjoying their affluence during the "bubble economy," also dashed off to the same auction houses in Europe and the U.S. to buy and bring back their own ukiyo-e prints of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, prints that had long charmed the West and had won a loving and appreciative audience there but had been scorned by the Japanese art establishment in the past.
Suddenly these very same prints, which allegedly had once been used as wrapping paper for shipping Japanese porcelain abroad—this story may be true, since the works were produced in enormous quantities—were commanding unheard-of prices in all the art "marts." The Japanese were out there buying everything and bringing it back home.
Printing Techniques
Today's prints are a far cry from the ukiyo-e of yore. The diverse and high-tech choices available to printmakers now are almost without limit. An artist can combine any number of other processes with the woodblock, lithograph, silkscreen, and etching techniques, which are the basic types of printmaking media, to produce what is termed a mixed-media print. He can experiment with photographic techniques, lasers, computer graphics, collages of diverse materials built up on a matrix and then printed (collagraphy). In short, the latest scientific printing breakthroughs are the Modern print artist's dream. Young Japanese artists enjoy blending all of the new processes with those from their own ancient woodblock and stencil heritage, thereby creating something new and uniquely Japanese.
Each artist responds to the multitude of techniques available in an individualistic way because each technique conveys a different feeling on paper. Artists do not choose printing techniques at random. They use one form or another because it is emotionally or technically satisfying for what they wish to portray: the texture of handmade paper and wood grain in a woodblock print; the painterly effects achievable in a lithograph; the purity of solid color and hard edges characteristic of a silkscreen; the exquisite detail possible in an etching.
Despite the numerous variations available, print techniques can be reduced to some basic forms. We do not want to write a book about the numerous techniques because that information is widely available, but we would like to provide some rudimentary information as a guideline for the general reader.
The relief print includes woodblocks, wood engravings, linocuts, and collagraphs. Knives, gouges, scoops, or chisels are used to cut away the part of the material that will not be included in the image. The raised surface is inked and printed, with a separate carving, inking, and printing of each block for a multicolored print. Since a separate block is used to print each color, the placement of the paper in the exact same spot on the inked block is required for precise color registration throughout the whole printing process. To insure that the color prints in the same place each time, the Japanese artist uses a kentō (a small groove about the thickness of the paper that is notched into the block, generally on the lower right corner and along the edge of the left side). The artists slides the paper into the kentō notching, thereby insuring that it does not move and that the color registers consistently in the exact area to be printed.
Woodcut print artists almost always use washi (handmade Japanese paper), which is dampened, put face down on the inked