100 Poets : Set #2 : Gonchunagon Atsutada

Gonchunagon Atsutada

Here is the sixth in this year's collection, one of the famous love poems in the set. As in most of these poems, the 'meaning' is subject to various interpretations. Of the different translations I have seen, I like the one published by Tom Galt the best:

If I but compare
All that I find in my heart
Since one night with her,
What had I there formerly
But peace - yes - and nothingness?

The layout of the poem on this month's print is also quite interesting. The poet's name, usually placed off to one side, has here been 'buried' in the middle of the poem, which has been scrambled. It is very difficult to read, even for those with knowledge of the older writing styles. Why did Shunsho do this?

Of course, we don't know. But we do know something about Edo-era working methods, and I do have a theory. I think that Shunsho did the designs of all the people first, without including the calligraphy. This was probably quite serious work for him, and the design work must have been spread out over at least a few weeks, and possibly quite a bit longer. I can image him working at a low table, sketching the poets in various poses, trying to catch one that seems suitable. He probably didn't draw everything that we see on the finished prints by himself. He wouldn't have drawn in each individual hair, as the carver Inoue-san was more than capable of cutting these without any guidance, and he certainly didn't need to repeat all the kimono patterns. He would have drawn one carefully as a sample, and simply left the repetition up to either an apprentice, or the carver.

What about the calligraphy? Here is what I think could have happened. When all the designs were finished, and approved by the publisher, it was time for him to fill in the poems. I think he sat down with the stack of drawings on one side, a bottle of sake on the other, and perhaps a few friends gathered around to make an occasion of it. I am sure that he would have started out quite seriously, placing the poems just so on the paper, but as time went by and the level in the bottle gradually fell, it perhaps didn't seem quite so important anymore that things be perfectly balanced. You saw an example of this in last year's print of Horikawa, where he wrote just a bit too broadly, ran out of room to finish the poem, and simply went back and wrote the remainder between the lines that were already in place.

I think that the poem you see here today must have been at the bottom of his stack, and by the time he got down to it he was really having a good time! Can you unscramble it? Good luck!