“Yasumasa Playing the Flute” by Yoshitoshi – Art and Violence on the Plains of Ichiharano
Yūgen and Transformation
Under the indifferent glow of the moon, on the desolate plains of Ichiharano, unfolds a scene brimming with tension and mystery, frozen in time by the ukiyo-e master, Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. “Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight” transports the viewer into a single moment that occurred over a thousand years ago during the Heian period. This artwork carries extraordinary impact—not only recounting the tale of an encounter between a court noble and a bandit, but also delving into universal questions about beauty, morality, and the transformative power of art to touch the human soul.
At the heart of this narrative lies a moment of ultimate decision—a second in which the bandit, Hakamadare Yasusuke, stands on the brink of greedy violence and spiritual elevation. With his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, ready to strike Fujiwara no Yasumasa, he is halted by the sound of a flute. The music, flowing through the moonlit air, awakens in the bandit a cascade of subtle and unnamed emotions. Yoshitoshi, capturing this delicate moment with his characteristic lines and details, invites the viewer into a contemplation of what lies deepest within us—the fleeting instances that define our humanity.
This work is not merely an illustration of an early medieval tale—it is a philosophical meditation on the moments of tension that shape our destinies. At the same time, it is a testament to the Meiji era, a period when Japan sought to redefine its identity in the face of Western modernity. Yoshitoshi, the last great ukiyo-e master, unites Zen aesthetics, Taoist notions of emptiness, and the deeply evocative sensations of yūgen in “Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight”. It is an artwork that takes us on a journey through the nocturnal wilderness but also into the depths of our own choices.
“Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight”
藤原保昌月下弄笛之図
(Fujiwara no Yasumasa Gekka Rōteki no Zu)
- Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (月岡芳年), 1882,
a standalone triptych presented at the first National Painting Exhibition
The Protagonists of the Scene
In Yoshitoshi’s artwork, we witness a scene from an ancient medieval tale. The central figure is Fujiwara no Yasumasa, an esteemed court noble and musician of the Heian period, walking alone through the desolate plains of Ichiharano. The night sky, illuminated by the full moon, bathes everything in a subtle glow, creating an aura of tranquility and mystery. In the background, tall grasses swaying in the wind remind us of the perpetual motion of life.
Yasumasa walks slowly, focused solely on his music. His posture is upright, his robes fluttering rhythmically in the wind as if dancing in harmony with the melody of his flute. His hands gently hold the instrument, his lips softly touching the mouthpiece—a gesture so natural and immersed in concentration that the viewer almost hears the sound of the melody drifting through the cool night air. Yasumasa’s serene face expresses profound harmony and meditative introspection—a portrait of a man immersed in the transcendental experience of art.
Behind him, contrasting with his spiritual elevation, lurks Hakamadare Yasusuke, a legendary bandit concealed in the dense grass. His stance betrays tension and readiness to strike. His left hand steadies his body, while his right hand tightly grips the hilt of his sword. This is the posture of a warrior, poised to draw his weapon and strike in an instant. His eyes, fixed on Yasumasa, reveal not only aggression but also an internal conflict—a struggle between the impulse for violence and the fascination with the beauty of music. His lips are slightly pursed, as if suppressing a cry or a sigh. Every aspect of Hakamadare’s stance exudes tension—he is a figure brimming with energy, prepared for swift action, yet seemingly restrained by an intangible force, held back by an unseen barrier.
Nature as a Participant
The tall, lush grasses appear to dance to the rhythm of the powerful wind, which, like an invisible conductor, orchestrates their motion in a single direction. Each blade bends, forming a cohesive wave that harmonizes with the majestically billowing robes of Yasumasa. This harmony of movement—unpredictable yet perfectly synchronized—draws the viewer into a world where nature and humanity are inextricably linked.
Above the scene dominates the moon, full and solitary, hanging low over the undulating grass on a velvet night sky. It is an indifferent witness, a silent observer of human struggles, as if to remind us of life’s fragility against the vast power of an indifferent universe.
The wind, which could have been chaotic and destructive, here becomes an organizing force, bringing harmony to the space and becoming an essential element of the extraordinary moment shaped by the sound of music. It is this dance of movement and sound that allows the viewer to feel the uniqueness of this moment.
Dynamics of Contrast
Yoshitoshi masterfully captures the contrast between the protagonists. Fujiwara no Yasumasa embodies harmony and transcendence, while Hakamadare represents chaos and violence. Their differences are highlighted not only in their postures and gestures but also in subtle details—Yasumasa appears natural and delicate, his movements fluid, his stance open. In contrast, Hakamadare is closed off, his figure exuding aggression and tension. This contrast draws the viewer’s gaze and compels them to reflect on deeper layers of the narrative—what is more powerful: beauty or force?
Meaning of space
The space in Yoshitoshi’s painting is masterfully balanced, emphasizing the contrast between the openness of the background and the dynamism of the figures. The empty, almost abstract background of the night landscape, illuminated only by the moon and delicate shadows, enhances the sense of loneliness and inevitability. Against this backdrop, the dynamic figures of Yasumasa and Hakamadare stand out vividly—their movements, garments, and gestures seem almost to emerge from the painting. This interplay between the calmness of the surroundings and the intensity of the protagonists, as well as the wind-swept grass, creates dramatic tension that captivates the viewer and gives the work its particular, fairy-tale atmosphere.
The Story Behind Yoshitoshi’s Work
Yoshitoshi’s “Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight” illustrates one of the most popular tales from the Heian period, recounted in classic Japanese literary collections such as Konjaku Monogatari (Tales of Times Now Past) and Uji Shūi Monogatari (Tales from Uji). This story, set in the 10th century, takes us to desolate plains where the sound of music becomes a weapon more powerful than a sword. The tale of Yasumasa and Hakamadare gained renown as an example of the power of art to disarm even the fiercest adversary. For centuries, it has been reinterpreted in theater, literature, and visual arts, culminating in Yoshitoshi’s unforgettable depiction in this masterpiece.
Encounter in the Wilderness
It is a late autumn evening. The full moon hangs high in the sky, and its silver light spills across the wild plains of Ichiharano. The wind lashes at the tall grass, which sways rhythmically with the night, and on the horizon, a solitary figure appears. Fujiwara no Yasumasa, a courtier and musician, is returning from the palace, carrying only his beloved flute and a delicate melody that resonates in the crisp air.
Unbeknownst to him, he is not alone. Hidden among the tall grass, like a shadow of the night, crouches Hakamadare Yasusuke—a notorious bandit who has claimed these lands as his dominion. Hakamadare watches as Yasumasa, wrapped in an elegant silk cloak, walks slowly, completely unaware of the lurking danger. In the bandit’s eyes gleams greed—the winter cloak worn by Yasumasa, richly adorned and perfect for cold nights, becomes a prize he must claim. For the bandit, the price of murder is not too high.
Hakamadare grips the hilt of his sword, tension coursing through his body, ready for a swift attack. Yet something holds him back. The sound of Yasumasa’s flute, gentle and melancholic, floats through the air, seeming to permeate every fiber of his being. Hakamadare, holding his breath, listens intently. His hand, moments ago poised to strike, slowly lowers. He cannot carry out his plan—the music, unfamiliar yet beautiful, paralyzes him, awakening something he has never felt before: subtle and complex emotions he cannot understand but that completely take hold of him.
Yasumasa, entirely absorbed in his melody, traverses the plains, oblivious to his uninvited companion. Hakamadare follows him, as if hypnotized, forgetting his original intentions. Each step becomes a journey into the unknown, where art reveals an entirely new dimension of existence to him.
The Confrontation at Yasumasa’s Home
When Yasumasa reaches his home, he stops playing and turns to his unexpected companion. His gaze is calm, almost compassionate, as he sees the astonished Hakamadare, who still stands with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Instead of driving him away or calling for guards, Yasumasa reaches for his cloak—the very one Hakamadare had intended to steal—and hands it to the bandit.
"Take it,” Yasumasa says, his voice steady but firm. “But remember, never attack strangers. You never know what skills might lie hidden behind a calm exterior.”
Hakamadare, overwhelmed not only by the music but also by Yasumasa’s unexpected generosity and composure, lowers his sword and accepts the gift. Silently, he offers a slight bow and disappears into the night. This moment changes everything for Hakamadare, who never again raised his weapon against the innocent.
A Timeless Tale of Transformation
Though simple in its structure, this story carries profound emotional and philosophical weight, referenced countless times by Japanese writers and artists over the centuries. It is a tale of the struggle between the impulse for violence and the power of beauty in art to transform even the darkest of hearts. It is a universal motif that Yoshitoshi immortalized in his painting, giving it a form that resonates as strongly today as it did a century and a half ago.
The Philosophical Layer of Yoshitoshi’s Ukiyo-e
Yoshitoshi’s “Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight” captures a moment that is like a taut string—full of potential and uncertainty, where each second determines the fate of the characters. Hakamadare Yasusuke, hidden in the grass, embodies the human dilemma, the conflict between a destructive impulse and the possibility of transformation. This moment, portrayed with extraordinary psychological insight, becomes a study of an ultimate choice, where morality, humanity, and the future of both characters hang in the balance.
Hakamadare grips his sword, ready to strike, but his posture reveals hesitation. He is no longer just a bandit acting on a crude impulse to gain loot—his stance betrays a state of being under the influence of something greater than himself. The music flowing from Yasumasa’s flute creates an invisible barrier between them, transforming the space from a battlefield into a place of introspection and spiritual elevation. Yoshitoshi portrays this moment with psychological precision—the bandit balances on the edge of violence and redemption, and the viewer is invited to pause with him on this precipice.
A similar dynamic of heightened tension is found in other works by Yoshitoshi, such as “The Moon over the Adachi Moor.” There, too, the protagonist—a knife-wielding old woman—is caught in a critical moment of decision: to kill a pregnant woman or spare her life. Yoshitoshi masterfully depicts these moments of ultimate choice, showcasing the psychological depth of his characters and prompting the viewer to reflect on the fragility of human morality.
The History of the Woodblock Print
The First National Exhibition of Japanese Art
The painting Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight was Yoshitoshi’s response to the changing artistic landscape during the Meiji era. It was presented at the First National Exhibition of Japanese Art in 1882, an event aimed at promoting traditional forms of expression in the context of a rapidly modernizing nation. This was a time when Japan, emerging from a long period of isolation, grappled with preserving its cultural identity amidst Western influences. The exhibition sought to create a platform that bridged Japanese artistic traditions with the modern European-inspired model of art exhibitions.
During this period, ukiyo-e, while appreciated in Europe as exotic works of art, was beginning to lose its significance in Japan. New techniques in printing and image reproduction, such as lithography and photography, captured the attention of a modern audience. By presenting his painting in this context, Yoshitoshi successfully merged the ukiyo-e tradition with the evolving artistic expectations of the Meiji era. His work reflects both fidelity to classical techniques and an attempt to adapt to modern standards of exhibition. Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight not only garnered acclaim at the exhibition but also marked the beginning of Yoshitoshi’s later artistic explorations in the series One Hundred Aspects of the Moon.
Response to European Influences in Meiji Era
The Meiji era brought about intense modernization, which impacted all areas of life, including art. Ukiyo-e, a traditional form of woodblock printing, needed to find its place within the new order. Yoshitoshi, one of the last masters of ukiyo-e, played a crucial role in this transformation. His works, including Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight, combined classical techniques with new inspirations, including influences from European painting.
The introduction of chiaroscuro, a more subdued color palette, and a greater emphasis on realistic depiction of figures were responses to the European aesthetics that began to dominate in Japan. At the same time, Yoshitoshi remained true to the spirit of ukiyo-e, continuing its tradition of narrative and symbolism. In this painting, he depicted deeply rooted Japanese cultural values—harmony between humanity and nature, the fleetingness of the moment—while also employing a modern approach to composition aimed at engaging a new audience.
Connections to Kabuki Theater: The Role of Ichikawa Danjūrō IX
Yoshitoshi did not create his works in artistic isolation—kabuki theater was one of his primary sources of inspiration for narrative compositions. A significant figure in this context was Ichikawa Danjūrō IX, a prominent kabuki actor who played a crucial role in popularizing Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight.
In 1883, Danjūrō performed in a play inspired by Yoshitoshi’s painting, titled Yanagizawa Azuma Nishiki-e (Color Woodblock Prints from the Willow Marsh), staged at the Shintomi Theater. His interpretation of the scene between Yasumasa and Hakamadare not only captured the attention of a broad audience but also strengthened the connection between ukiyo-e and kabuki. Yoshitoshi and Danjūrō collaborated, and their mutual influences created a new dimension in depicting dramatic stories—both on stage and on paper. Moreover, the painting’s popularity led to the creation of a street procession during the Sanno Festival, where Yoshitoshi himself took a place on a platform inspired by his artwork, becoming a living icon of Meiji art.
Comparison to Yoshitoshi’s Earlier and Later Interpretations
Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight was neither the first nor the last work by Yoshitoshi inspired by this story. As early as 1868, the artist created Autumn Moon at Toin (洞院の秋月), an illustration of the same tale but with a completely different aesthetic. That composition, created in collaboration with Katsukawa Shuntei, was harsher in its color palette and less subtle in building the tension between the characters.
In his later series One Hundred Aspects of the Moon, Yoshitoshi revisited the story, adding more dynamism to the scene. Yoshitoshi continually evolved as an artist, and his various interpretations of the same scene demonstrate his masterful ability to balance tradition with modernity, creating works with timeless resonance.
Conclusion
Fujiwara no Yasumasa Plays the Flute by Moonlight is a philosophical reflection on the essence of humanity, the mysterious significance of yūgen, and the transformative power of art that speaks to all. Through a masterful blend of narrative and aesthetics, Yoshitoshi created a painting that resonates with viewers on emotional, spiritual, and intellectual levels. By suspending us between harmony and violence, he shows that our ultimate choices are often shaped by forces beyond our full comprehension.
This work is also a testament to the times in which it was created—the Meiji era, rife with tensions between tradition and modernity, East and West, high art and popular culture. Yoshitoshi captured dramatic moments of human existence while preserving traditional woodblock techniques, introducing subtle, modern refinements.
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未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
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