Calm and Drama

It is hard to imagine a more symbolic encounter than that between the works of Hiroshige and Van Gogh – two visions of the world: calm and contemplative versus turbulent and chaotic. Let us look at Hiroshige’s woodblock print “Plum Orchard in Kamata,” where white blossoms, like a veil of spring mist, spread across the background of a soft pink sky. The Japanese artist perfectly captured the silence and harmony, the peace and stillness of this brief moment in the garden. In Hiroshige’s hands, the flowers are a fragile, fleeting moment of life, almost a whisper, a symbol of transience but also of the undisturbed balance of the world.

When Van Gogh took on this composition in 1887, the “Plum Orchard” ceased to be a quiet poem. Instead, it became an image full of vigor, brutal cuts, colors bursting from the canvas, as if life itself boiled in these flowers, which almost seem to scream. Strong brushstrokes, pulsating intensity, and colors that, in their turmoil and chaos, fight for space on the canvas. Where Hiroshige paints silence, Van Gogh introduces chaos, and the place of philosophical acceptance is replaced by the drama of existence. The same scene, the same frame – but the spirit of the artist – entirely different. This is what the meeting of European and Japanese painting looks like.

At the end of the 19th century, Europe was spellbound by Japan. Ukiyo-e, those “pictures of the floating world,” swept into the Western consciousness like a sudden gust of exoticism. They became a symphony of freshness, something that broke away from the dullness of classical perspective. But for Van Gogh, Japan was more than just a trend – it was an obsession. In discovering ukiyo-e, he not only admired their calmness but also their directness – a simplicity that was, paradoxically, incredibly sophisticated. In letters to his brother, he wrote about Japanese woodblock prints with absolute fascination: “It’s something that brings us back to nature, despite our education and lives in a world of conventions.”

Van Gogh’s admiration for the Japanese world was like a deep, unquenchable hunger. He wanted to “see with Japanese eyes,” to break the conventions of Western painting and find peace in his own art – a peace that did not exist in his turbulent inner world. Inspired by Hiroshige’s simplicity, he created paintings full of inner conflict, emotional contradictions, a tension between harmony and violence that Western art had never previously engaged. This dialogue between two artists, separated by culture and half the world, was thus not merely imitation. It was an attempt to find meaning in chaos, a yearning for lost balance. A desperate cry for the lost ability to feel... peace.

Ukiyo-e Reaches Europe

In the mid-19th century, Japan, hidden for centuries behind the curtain of isolation, opened its borders to the world – it was a shock for both Japan and the Western art world. For over 200 years, since the early Edo period, Japan had pursued the policy of sakoku (鎖国 – literally “closed country”), prohibiting all contact with the outside world (except for a small group of Dutch merchants in Nagasaki). However, all this changed in 1853 when Commodore Matthew Perry’s American fleet forced Japan to sign treaties opening the country to international trade. Not only did everything new and fresh pour into Japan, but a wave of novelty in the form of Japanese ukiyo-e woodblock prints quickly flooded Europe, leaving artists in utter amazement.

In Paris, Japanese ukiyo-e – “pictures of the floating world” – soon became highly prized and sought-after goods. They reflected another reality: colorful yet simple and restrained in detail, they depicted landscapes, kabuki actors, and beautiful courtesans. Japonism, the fascination with Japanese culture, became an obsession among the Parisian bohemians. Edgar Degas, Claude Monet, Édouard Manet – each, in his way, succumbed to the magic of these exotic works, whose simple aesthetics broke all the rules of classical European perspective.

Degas, who played with dramatic diagonal lines in his paintings of ballerinas, found the Japanese approach to composition highly inspiring. Monet, on the other hand, built a Japanese-style bridge in his garden in Giverny, modeled after the arched bridges he saw in ukiyo-e. The Japanese “floating pictures” compelled European artists to reject academic rules and open themselves to compositions with “flat” colors, often devoid of central perspective – with small elements in the foreground, bold outlines, and daring framing. The Japanese world of nature and everyday life became a liberation from conventionality for European creators and a new perspective on space, giving art more expression and freedom.

Initially, ukiyo-e aroused interest as an exotic curiosity, but over time it became the key to understanding an entirely new aesthetic and philosophy of art. In Japan, these works were the result of collaboration – the precise craftsmanship and artistic harmony between the artist, woodcutter, and printer. Europe was unfamiliar with this process of creation – an aesthetic simplicity that, through the works of Hiroshige, Hokusai, and Utamaro, freed art from the frames of convention and taught a new perspective on nature. Thanks to this, Japonism permanently inscribed itself into the European avant-garde, and for artists like Van Gogh, it became the beginning of a search for spiritual harmony in the chaos of their own works.

Van Gogh Discovers Ukiyo-e

Van Gogh first encountered ukiyo-e by chance, in a stuffy art studio in Antwerp, amid dusty canvases and paintings in Western style. At first, these colorful, flat images of Japanese woodblock prints seemed to him mere exoticism – a curiosity that drew him with its otherness. But something in these scenes – women in kimonos, the bent branches of blooming plums, falling cherry blossoms – began to fascinate him. He felt these works possessed something Western art lacked: simplicity, unrestrained joy of life, and extraordinary harmony.

In 1886, when he moved to Paris, Japanese ukiyo-e woodblock prints opened up to him in their full splendor – not as a random decorative element but as a source of inspiration and spiritual solace. In Paris, Japanese prints became a genuine phenomenon, and Van Gogh immersed himself in feverish collecting. He bought over six hundred pieces from Siegfried Bing, a dealer who, like a magician, brought Oriental art to the heart of Europe. Ukiyo-e prints filled the walls of Van Gogh’s studio, gazing at him from every corner, arranging themselves into a Japanese landscape in the bustling Montmartre district. With fascination, he studied every line and shade of these works, as if he wanted to extract from them the secret of the Japanese soul.

At first, he tried to use his collection as a source of income. He held exhibitions at the Café du Tambourin, where his favorite ukiyo-e prints hung on the café’s walls, but to his disappointment, none of the guests wanted to buy them. And though he did not gain money this way, he gained something far more valuable – he began to understand the deep philosophy hidden in these images. In the woodcuts, he saw a world free of unnecessary complications, the beauty of the moment, peace enclosed in simple shapes and vivid colors. These scenes breathed something he could not find in Western art – an intensity of color, flatness of space, bold outlines that did not need the illusion of depth to convey reality.

Over time, Van Gogh learned (or was continually learning) to see through a “Japanese eye,” as he called it. The prints taught him to see beauty in simple, everyday things: a single blade of grass, the branch of a tree bending under the weight of flowers, or the intense blue of the sky without the illusion of perspective. What had previously been merely another curiosity now transformed his creativity at the deepest level. He began to abandon Western principles, allowing himself freedom and inspiration from the greatest masters of Japanese ukiyo-e art.

The 'Japanization' of Van Gogh's Painting Techniques

Fascinated by the world of ukiyo-e, Van Gogh attempted to transform his view of art – he sought in the prints a liberation from the rules that had previously restricted him. Elements of Japanese woodblock aesthetics began to appear in his painting, breaking Western canons: he abandoned the illusion of depth in favor of planes of color, and complex perspective gave way to simple, almost graphic compositions. In the works of Hiroshige and Hokusai, Van Gogh discovered the idea that a painting did not have to imitate reality to capture its essence. Thus, he rejected classical Western depth – his world was to be flat, each shape speaking with intensity of color and line.

Van Gogh’s colors gained new intensity – inspired by the strong, uniform colors of ukiyo-e, he began to paint with greater boldness and confidence. Yellows, greens, blues – each shade became part of a harmony that recalled the simple beauty of Japanese landscapes. In “The Sower” (“Le Semeur”), we see this inspiration very clearly: the background of the burning sun spreads across the canvas, enveloping the tree and figure in strong, flat planes of color, without any trace of Western light and shadow modeling. These flat, energetic colors cease to be mere compositional elements – they come alive, as if the painting itself is breathing.

In Japanese woodcuts, Van Gogh also found the meaning of the simplicity of the contour – a line that defines space, giving it rhythm and balance. This expressive framing, characteristic of ukiyo-e, began to permeate his work, in which the outline became an expression of intense emotion, emerging from every form. In “Van Gogh’s Bedroom in Arles” (“La Chambre à Arles”), the rectangles and lines are orderly, almost geometric, and each edge has its weight and value – as if the line itself were a voice narrating the austere beauty of the everyday. Through this linear approach, the bed, chairs, table, and pictures on the walls turn into individual islands of color and form, whose flat, thoughtful composition evokes a Japanese view of the world.

Van Gogh also took from ukiyo-e their philosophy of nature: a simple, almost intimate relationship with nature that did not require grandeur or dramatic compositions. In “Almond Blossoms” (“Amandier en Fleurs”), the flowers unfold against the backdrop of a pure, almost uniform blue, without distracting details – as if the blooming process itself, its ephemeral moment, were the essence of the painting. This Japanese inspiration is visible in how Van Gogh approached nature: flowers, fields, landscapes became something more than just images – they became a personal experience.

Art through the lens of ukiyo-e revealed to Van Gogh a different dimension – one where each line and color became a conscious choice, an act of creative freedom, an attempt to capture that elusive balance that Japanese artists expressed with such simplicity and naturalness. For Van Gogh, an artist torn and defiant, Japanese woodcuts were a path to another world – a world in which colors and shapes create a harmonious, though still pulsing, tension-filled whole.

Van Gogh's Paintings Directly Inspired by Ukiyo-e (Examples)

"Bridge in the Rain after Hiroshige"
(“Le pont sous la pluie, d'après Hiroshige,” 1887)

Based on: “Spring Rain on the Ōhashi Bridge at Atake” (大はしあたけの夕立 Ōhashi Atake no yūdachi), Utagawa Hiroshige, 1857

Van Gogh grappled with Hiroshige’s subtlety but didn’t try to imitate it—instead, he confronted it with the turbulent dynamism of his own demons. In Hiroshige’s original woodblock print, the rain is boldly drawn, falling in even, long lines, creating an almost rhythmic mesh over the bridge. It is intense, yet harmonious—a part of the natural order that in Japan is received with acceptance and tranquility. Hiroshige sees rain as something enduring, nearly silent, as a natural element of the landscape.

Van Gogh transforms this harmony into something almost brutal. In his version, the rain doesn’t flow gently—it falls violently, as if the dark, thick lines of rain cut into the canvas. Where Hiroshige outlines the bridge’s arc in a calm curve, Van Gogh paints the structure with strength and tension, as if each element fights to survive within this wild element. The figures on the bridge, clinging to the wooden beams, seem to battle the downpour, and the whole scene becomes a metaphor for humanity’s struggles against overwhelming forces of an unkind fate.

Hiroshige perceived the bridge as a place of passage, a subtle link between the two banks of life. Van Gogh, however, turns the bridge into a scene of inner conflict, arising from his personal vision of chaos, in which he was constantly immersed. Every detail here is an expression of emotion—the rough texture, the uneven rhythm of the rain, which is not a gentle moisture but a knife-sharp waterfall weighing down the structure. The bridge, which for Hiroshige is an element of peace and endurance, in Van Gogh’s hands bends under pressure, almost gasping its last breath.

In Van Gogh’s version, each drop seems to convey something beyond nature—they are like emotional charges, drops burdened with pain, full of the artist’s loneliness, longing to express his inner storm. The rain, which for Hiroshige was almost a whisper, becomes in Van Gogh’s hands a scream—silent but clear and passionate. In this way, Van Gogh takes a calm, balanced composition and transforms it into a dramatic tale, where the simplicity of the scene turns into intense drama.

"Flowering Plum Orchard after Hiroshige"
(“Le verger en fleurs, d'après Hiroshige,” 1887)

Based on: “Plum Estate, Kameido” (亀戸梅屋舗, Kameido Umeyashiki), Utagawa Hiroshige, 1857

In “Flowering Plum Orchard after Hiroshige,” Van Gogh engages with another facet of Japanese aesthetics—the harmony of spring blossoming and the delicacy of plum flowers. Hiroshige presents the landscape as a world of quiet elegance: white and pink blossoms hover against the pastel sky, spreading like a cloud over a tranquil garden. In Hiroshige’s woodcut, the tree is not merely a plant but a symbol of nature in its purest form, enduring yet fragile. In the Japanese world, this spring landscape is a tribute to life that blooms fully, even though its beauty is fleeting.

Van Gogh, however, is not content with a simple depiction of this fragility. Instead, he transforms the subtle garden into an explosion of colors of vibrant intensity that almost vibrate on the canvas. For Van Gogh, the flowers cease to be a calm element of the landscape and become a force of nature—a sign of life that pulses and seethes, as if it wants to burst through the limits of the canvas. The branches seem to tremble under the weight of the flowers, which in his interpretation are no longer quiet, fleeting petals but bursts of color, full of energy and passion.

While Hiroshige focuses on a moment of contemplation and admiration of nature’s harmony, Van Gogh introduces emotional dynamics—intensifying the saturation of colors, exaggerating forms, creating a stark contrast between the plums and the sky’s background. The blue and pink shades in Van Gogh’s painting not only enrich the composition but also become a manifestation of his stormy interior, full of passion and longing for peace that he would never find. This is not a garden of silence, as with Hiroshige—it is a garden bursting with life, full of bold colors that reflect the artist’s inner struggles and quests.

Much like in “Bridge in the Rain,” Van Gogh brings his interpretation of the Japanese philosophy of transience here. The flowering plum orchard becomes for him not just a scene from a garden but also a symbol of life’s fragility and beauty. Hiroshige sees this landscape as an image of cyclical, unbroken continuity, while Van Gogh adds drama and intensity—each flower and branch here is a manifestation of a fleeting triumph over impermanence.

"The Sower"
(“Le Semeur,” 1888)

Van Gogh’s “The Sower” is a work full of symbolism, referring to humanity’s closeness with nature and the cycles of life, inspired by the Japanese approach to daily life and spiritual unity with the surrounding world. Van Gogh encountered this theme in Japanese woodcuts but also in the art of the French artist Jean-François Millet, whose simplicity and profound symbolism of rural life also fascinated him. However, in this piece, we see not only the influence of Japanese art but also Van Gogh’s unique application of Japanese aesthetics—flat, bold colors, asymmetrical composition, and ukiyo-e-style outlines.

Van Gogh created “The Sower” in Arles, during a time when his fascination with Japan and Japanese ukiyo-e was at its peak. The artist abandons traditional Western perspective in favor of Japanese flatness, where depth is achieved through color contrast rather than the illusion of space. The large yellow sun—almost like the Japanese red sun symbol—dominates the scene and gives it an almost mythological power. The sower, embodying labor and the continuity of life, merges with the landscape, which in Japanese art would symbolize harmony between humanity and nature.

The color palette of “The Sower” is intense, with saturated and contrasting hues—yellow, green, and blue—that give the painting energy and expression. These bold colors are close to Hiroshige’s aesthetic, though Van Gogh gives them his unmistakable character, revealing a turbulent sensitivity that contrasts with Hiroshige’s harmony. Although Hiroshige depicted peaceful nature in his landscapes, Van Gogh adds an emotional depth, where his inner struggles are visible.

While Hiroshige represented everyday life as part of nature’s calm cycle, Van Gogh depicts the sower as a symbolic figure—full of determination and hope but also a unique sense of tragedy, as if the act of sowing were a path to an inevitable, dramatic end. Van Gogh creates a work that combines Japanese aesthetics with Western expression, showing both his admiration for Japan and his own unique, chaotic, and dramatic approach to art and life.

'After some time your vision changes, you see with a more Japanese eye, you feel colour differently. I'm also convinced that it's precisely through a long stay here that I'll bring out my personality'.

 - Vincent to Theo from Arles, 5 June 1888.

Van Gogh's Wish to "Live Like a Japanese"

Throughout his life, Van Gogh sought harmony that he could not find in the turbulent landscapes of his own mind. In Japan, he saw an oasis of peace—a way of life where people live closely connected to nature, in harmony and humility toward nature’s cycles. Though he never visited Japan, inspired by Japanese woodcuts, he began striving to “live like a Japanese,” seeking spiritual solace in simplicity and contemplation.

Japanese art revealed to him a world full of silence and acceptance, where every blade of grass, every drop of dew on flower petals, became an expression of the beauty of a fleeting moment, embodying the spirit of mono no aware. In this spirit, Van Gogh dreamed of creating his own artistic community—a place where he could live and work in unity with nature and art. Arles was meant to be his “Japanese” sanctuary, where, surrounded by the color and light of southern France, he could transform his life into something akin to a Japanese temple of art. His dream of an artist community was an escape from loneliness—the hope that Gauguin and other friends would join him in co-creating his vision of an artistic monastery. Like Japanese artists, Van Gogh wanted to share daily life with others, rejecting Western individualism in favor of fraternity and community.

The philosophy of “the floating world” (ukiyo) permeated his work, becoming an inseparable element of Van Gogh’s painting. In the transience of blooming almond trees and the constant movement of wheat fields, there is a longing for harmony and awareness that everything fades—life, beauty, the moment. Van Gogh approached the symbolism of life and death, intertwining nature’s energy with reflections on impermanence. In each petal, each stalk, he saw the fragile beauty of nature, understanding that life is an endless flow, a merciless change that was always a source of suffering and inspiration for him.

“Importing” Japanese ideas and aesthetics, the Shinto presence of spirits in nature, and the Buddhist acceptance of transience gave his paintings a deeper, almost mystical dimension. “Connection with the world of nature” became for Van Gogh not only a desire but a necessity—a salvation for a mind wandering in chaos, seeking a fixed point. This need for unity with nature pushed him to paint images full of intensity: vivid colors, dynamic brushstrokes, bold outlines, and shapes.

Dialogue

The dialogue between Van Gogh and Japanese art, which he expressed in his paintings, became a timeless testimony to cultural exchange. In his works, we see not only inspiration but also transformation—Japanese woodcuts, full of silence and balance, were transformed under his brush into paintings filled with passion and intensity, combining two drastically different views of life. This dialogue, conducted through colors and forms, is a testament to deep fascination, unrestricted by language or geography. In this way, Van Gogh became one of the first artists who symbolically “crossed borders,” paying homage to Japan, a country he never visited yet from which he drew values and cultural insights.

Van Gogh, who himself struggled with loneliness and inner demons, left behind something much greater than paintings—he remains a symbol, reminding us that art can unite the most distant worlds. His works inspire not only painters but also those searching for peace and harmony (and unable to find them), becoming a spiritual refuge for anyone who looks at a world full of chaos and seeks to find inner balance.

Thanks to Van Gogh’s art and his dialogue with ukiyo-e, Japanese tradition became part of Western culture, and the woodcuts of Hiroshige and other ukiyo-e masters gained new life. This legacy, not only beautiful but also deeply symbolic, is a testament to how artistic sensitivity and imagination can bring together worlds that are so different and distant.

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 A connoisseur of Asian culture with a deep-seated appreciation for various philosophies of the world. By education, psychologist and Korean philologist. By heart, an Android developer and an ardent tech aficionado. In tranquil moments, he champions a disciplined way of life, firmly believing that steadfastness, perpetual self-enhancement, and a dedication to one's passions is a sensible path for life.

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