From Edo to Instagram: Why Hiroshige’s Japan Still Captivates Us, 200 Years Later

How a 19th-century Japanese artist turned fleeting moments into lasting masterpieces—and why his vision still matters today.

Seba from The 69 Stations of the Kiso Highway, late 1830s. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print. © The Trustees of the British Museum

Hiroshige’s prints nowadays are rare, fragile and precious. But that is not at all how they were viewed during the late 1800s.

For sure, he was famous and successful during his lifetime – he worked with 90 different publishers. And even though he was part of the wider Japanese printing tradition, his works stood out in comparison to those of his contemporaries and followers.

Tōkaidō Autumn Moon: Restaurants at Kanagawa, Musashi Province, about 1839. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh

Yet these prints were the 19th century equivalent of an Instagram feed. Something people wanted to see, were keen to spend their time looking at, but not significant enough to consider art.

I think images like these are more influential that art. They seep into our hands – whether as prints (or even hand-held disposable fans) in the 1800s, or as phone images now – and in doing so, they seep into our minds.

Cherry Blossoms on a Moonless Night along the Sumida River, 1847-8. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print triptych. Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum. © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Hiroshige was onto something. His art hung not only in a rich lord’s house, it was in everyone’s hands, wealthy or poor. And he depicted everyone. Witnessing the decline of the Samurai era, Hiroshige chose to avoid politics and show the everyday instead. He went where people went, portraying famous places and well-trodden roads. He showed people what they wanted (or needed) to see: a calm world, with beautiful landscapes, cute animals and busy people.

Today we expect art to be revolutionary, to be topical, to be challenging. For art to be good, to be taken seriously, it needs to address an issue, be political, be anti- or pro-something. Today, Hiroshige would not be considered a serious artist.

Evening View of the Eight Scenic Spots of Kanazawa in Musashi Province, 1857. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh

He wanted to show a world that was beautiful. It is easy to look at his works and think that’s what life in Japan looked like 200 years ago. But we need to be careful: Hiroshige mixed observation with a heavy dose of artistic licence. Sometimes he depicted places he had only read about or seen in other artists’ works. He manipulated images just as much as modern AI does. But he did it lovingly.

It's hard not to fall in love with Hiroshige’s Japan. From misty mountain paths to red sunsets, his landscapes capture the hearts of many.

Ferry on the Fuji River, Suruga Province from Famous Places in Japan, c. 1832. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print. © The Trustees of the British Museum

Of course, the little owls tucking their beaks into their feathers for the night are endlessly charming. But for me, it is the people in his works who are the most endearing. The man looking up at the cherry blossom, while navigating his boat; the woman holding her fan in her mouth as she fixes her dress; the servant bending down to a blazing fire to light his cigarette – these all seem like little snippets of the everyday.

An everyday not so different from ours – a life that is very human and quietly remarkable wherever and whenever you are.

Nihonbashi - Morning Scene, from The 53 Stations of the Tōkaidō, c. 1833-35. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print. © The Trustees of the British Museum

Today, we make images ourselves; we eagerly scroll through hundreds created by others on our phones. For me, these images can be divided into broad categories – news stories, adverts and cats. Or dogs.

We look at images for two main purposes: information and distraction. As all these images come from our screen, we assume that this is a very modern pastime. But image making goes back thousands of years.

Crane and asters (early 1830s) [left], Three geese and full moon (early 1830s) [centre], Pheasant and chrysanthemums (early 1830s) [right]. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock prints. Left: Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum, Centre and right: Collection of Alan Medaugh, © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

For a long time, each painting or drawing remained unique. But then the printing press came along. And suddenly not only words could be shared more widely, but images too.

Japanese prints of the early 19th century were possibly the most successful use of this technology. Not only was each print reproduced countless times – possibly up to 15,000 from one block, but there were thousands of these prints. Hiroshige alone made over 5000.

Pleasure Boats at Ryōgoku in the Eastern Capital, 1832-4. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

The British Museum’s new exhibition, ‘Hiroshige: artist of the open road’, brings together some of his most famous prints, but a great number have never been shown previously in the UK.

The show’s videos and explanations of the print-making techniques show that they were complex and multi-staged. Hiroshige’s part was drawing the image. The originals were black and white and were destroyed during the printing process, hence they are now extremely rare. Some examples are shown here, as are some of his paintings and illustrated books.

As the show progresses, we see Hiroshige becoming ever more experimental. By the end of his life, he was trialling unusual points of view, juxtaposing large details in the foreground with wide landscape behind. I’m wondering how much he would have enjoyed using a drone camera: his vision and technique were marvellously both of his time and well ahead of it.

The Plum Garden at Kameido from 100 Famous Views of Edo, 1857. By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858). Colour-woodblock print. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Hiroshige’s experiments did not go unnoticed. His fame grew inside and outside Japan. Probably his most famous admirer was Vincent van Gogh, who made several paintings based closely on Hiroshige’s prints – sometimes copied square by square.

In the final room are works of other artists, both historic and contemporary, who paid homage to the Japanese master, from Whistler to Julian Opie.

Hiroshige made great art that was accessible to all without ever sacrificing his standards. He made images that are as interesting today as they were 200 years ago.

Due to the fragile nature of the works, there will be a rotation in the middle of the show run. So going once is a definite must, and going twice would not be too many!

Hiroshige: artist of the open road, The British Museum, 1 May – 7 September, 2025.