Yūrei-zu: The Original J-Horror

Part of the ongoing series, "Art: The Weird, The Grotesque, and The Jaw-Dropping"

J-horror (Japanese horror) is a critical component of contemporary Japanese popular culture. As a niche interest area, this subculture is primarily (though not exclusively) focused on horror narratives that grapple with psychological, suspenseful, and supernatural elements. A source of both domestic and international acclaim, J-horror is expressed through a variety of media, namely film & television, anime, manga, and video games. 

The genre is regularly understood in relation to individual works that have garnered commercial success, from the living, breathing haunted house of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s comedic cult horror film House (1977) to the ghostly survival horror video game franchise Fatal Frame (2001 - 2014). Though the list of esteemed classics within the genre is quite expansive, J-horror was not borne out of the mid-to-late 20th Century, rather it has much older roots in Japan’s pre-industrial visual and material culture.

Supernatural narratives were a form of literary expression in the Edo period (1603 - 1868), of which kaidan (ghost stories) were a particular favorite. Traditional kabuki and noh theater often emphasized ghost stories that entailed beyond-the-grave revenge storylines; the most famous of these plays was Tsuruya Nanboku IV’s 1825 work Yotsuya Kaidan (The Story of Oiwa and Tamiya Iemon). 

The artistic medium of ukiyo-e, a popular form of woodblock printmaking that covers a multitude of genres, was remarkably effective in its visual interpretation of horror stories. Yūrei-zu is a ukiyo-e subgenre that specializes in pictorial representations of ghosts, demons, and other supernatural beings. Of all the pre-20th Century forms of popular culture, ukiyo-e is most likely the medium that had the most influence on the development and maturation of modern J-horror in the 20th and 21st Centuries due to its explicitly macabre imagery that were intended to evoke feelings of terror, unease, and astonishment. 

The term yūrei translates to “faint soul” in reference to the diverse types of otherworldly spirits that populated Japanese horror lore such as ghosts, demons, and figures derived from Shintoism. Although yūrei-zu subjects appeared in thousands of standalone ukiyo-e prints, it is common to encounter them in thematic series comprised of several dozen images as typified in Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s One Hundred and Eight Heroes of the Popular Water Margin (c. 1827 - 1830) and his One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets (c. 1840 - 1842). 

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Ma Lin from the One Hundred and Eight Heroes of the Popular Water Margin, c. 1827 - 1830, woodblock print

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Poem by Dainagon Tsunenobu from the series One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets, c. 1840 - 1842, woodblock print. 

Ukiyo-e artists demonstrated pictorial versatility through their execution of prints in multiple genres. Prominent figures in the Japanese Art History canon like Katsushika Hokusai, famous for his Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (c. 1830 - 1832), regularly churned out yūrei-zu alongside his celebrated landscape, animal, and plant subjects. 

Katsushika Hokusai, The Ghost of Kohada Koheiji, c. 1831, woodblock print. 

Visual attributes that denote yūrei-zu are richly varied and would require an entire book-length publication to closely examine each individualized depiction. However, a brief overview of recurring characteristics and iconography will expound the traits associated with this particular genre of ukiyo-e:

Shunkōsai Hokushū, Onoe Kikugoro III as the Ghost of Oiwa in the Play Irohagana Yotsuya Kaidan, 1826, woodblock print. 

Ghosts are among the most common spirits to appear in yūrei-zu. While some may be portrayed as benevolent spirits who intend to assist members of the living world, ghosts are also depicted as long-haired, banshee-like floating entities bent on committing nefarious acts of terror and revenge. In either instance of an innocent or evil spirit, their ghostliness will be most evident in the absence of legs and its replacement with a wispy, spectral tail. The above image is from the popular ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan (The Ghost of Oiwa) in which a young samurai’s betrayal of his marriage vows leads to his wife’s disfigurement and death. Shortly thereafter, she returns as a deformed spirit seeking vengeance for her demise. 

Shunbaisai Hokuei, Kabuki Actor Arashi Rikan II as Iemon Confronted by an Image of His Murdered Wife, Oiwa, on a Broken Lantern, 1832, woodblock print. 

A direct connection to the standard evil ghost images, spirits are sometimes shown possessing inanimate objects and transforming them into monstrous forms. In another print from Yotsuya Kaidan, the deceased wife attacks her husband as an anthropomorphic lantern. 

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, The Former Emperor Sutoku from Sanuki Sends His Retainers to Rescue Tametomo, c. 1851 - 1852, woodblock print. 

Giant animals and monsters were sources of pictorial drama and were either references to heroic epics or operated as a supernatural tale; the antagonizing subjects encompass a range of figures as diverse as cats, raccoons, and spiders. In one of the legendary hero episodes depicted here, the archer Minamoto Tametomo struggles to sail to Kyoto after a gargantuan sea monster creates a storm to thwart his efforts. Miraculously, the ghostly descendants of the retired Emperor Sutoku appear to assist Tametomo in battling the aquatic behemoth that spans the entire horizontally-oriented composition. 

Utagawa Kunisada, Ichimura Uzaemon XII as Shoki and Nakamura Utaemon IV as Ao Oni, The Blue Demon, from the series The Twelve Months, 1840, woodblock print. 

Recognized as agents of deceit and evil, demons in yūrei-zu are frequently shown in brightened hues with exaggerated features to denote their otherness to humans. Their interactions with human figures shifts from one narrative to another as demons may be seen fighting samurai protagonists or, in this image, dancing alongside its counterpart. 

Yūrei-zu’s functions were as multivalent as their imagery. From a literary perspective, yūrei-zu followed the ages-old tradition of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai (A Gathering of One Hundred Supernatural Tales), a form of entertainment in which individuals gather around a circle of one hundred candles and share ghost and supernatural stories based on local legends or the storyteller’s personal experiences. Upon the conclusion of each story, a candle was blown out. Once the hundredth candle was extinguished, it was rumored that a supernatural creature would manifest before the participants. 

In other instances, yūrei-zu were purportedly visual recreations of spirits encountered by the artists themselves. Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839 - 1892), regarded as the last great ukiyo-e master, participated in Gathering of One Hundred Supernatural Tales sessions to retell ghost stories that happened to him. Shortly before his sudden death at 53, Yoshitoshi’s New Forms of 36 Ghosts (1889 - 1892) follows a similar narrative style as the ghost story social customs for its episodic focus on disparate otherworldly events and subjects, including a monster badger, skeletal ghosts, and smallpox demons. 

Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, Takeda Katsuchiyo and Monster Badger, c. 1889 - 1892, woodblock print. 

Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, Jigoku Dayu, c. 1889 - 1892, woodblock print. 

Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, Tametomo and Smallpox Demons, c. 1889 - 1892, woodblock print. 

Yūrei-zu were also political statements in response to the ruling Tokugawa Shogunate during Japan’s isolationist Edo period (1603 - 1868). In 1841, the daimyo Mizuno Tadakuni (1794 - 1851) imposed the Tenpo Reforms, a policy aimed at restructuring and redeveloping the economy, military, agriculture, and religious institutions. Consequently, the visual arts were considered nonessential luxury goods and subsequent censorship codes were enforced to limit ukiyo-e production, particularly the graphic yūrei-zu imagery. However, yūrei-zu artists continued to produce their works in defiance of the Shogunate’s control over artistic liberty. Perhaps Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s (1798 - 1861) Tanuki series (1843 - 1844) was a pictorial lampooning of the Tenpo Reforms as the tanuki (raccoon dogs) are depicted as anthropomorphic drunkards who turn their oversized testicles into mock imitations of deities, demons, and other supernatural entities - a complete violation of the Tenpo Reforms’ emphasis on upholding morality. Artistic freedom won out, and the Tenpo Reform censorship was removed from entertainment and the visual arts in 1845. 

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Visiting Konpira, the guardian deity of seafaring, mid-1840s, woodblock print. 

Given ukiyo-e’s status as an affordable medium for middle-class patrons, yūrei-zu’s popularity was comparable to all other ukiyo-e genres and subgenres, including landscape, yakusha-e (actor prints), abuna-e (erotic pictures), kacho-e (birds and flowers), among others. 

The aesthetic and thematic associations of yūrei-zu have proven to remain supremely influential on the global popularity of J-horror’s multimedia platforms. Social and political commentaries are an underpinning of J-horror’s themes, be it the Godzilla franchise’s (1954 - ) origins as an anti-nuclear war metaphor or Takashi Miike’s exploration of sexual and gendered violence in Audition (1999). Though not necessarily following the precise format of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai, anthology stories of a series of unrelated horror tales has become a permanent fixture of J-horror that is best represented in the Cannes award-winning and Oscar-nominated classic Kwaidan (1964).The lingering, vengeful ghosts with deathly pale skinned contrasted against hanging charcoal black hair from the Ju-On/Grudge franchise are one among thousands of examples where yūrei-zu iconography are channeled in today’s J-horror aesthetics. Although ukiyo-e woodblock printmaking is no longer the primary form of Japanese artistic expression, its centuries-old fascination with ghoulish, spine-chilling tales of harrowing encounters with the undead, the otherworldly, and the demonic remains a crucial element to its vast culturalscape.