Blog 11: Manga as
Textbooks,
and
How Japanese Manga began in a French prison in 1832
In September 2004, one of Japan’s leading
manga authors, Takemiya Keiko, was approached by a medical university to write an
educational manga depicting surgical procedures (see technical instruction
comic – Blog 5). Kyoto Seika University professor, Makino Keiichi explained, “Manga
can exaggerate details in a way photographs can't.” Additionally, illustrations
have another advantage over photography in that they can key in on a specific
subject or event, simplify it, and delete any extraneous elements that would
interfere in the clearness of the information they are conveying. Dr. Su Soon
Peng, associate professor of English in University of Malaya, believes that ‘The
reader should not see the graphic form as a full and accurate version of the
original text. A comic cannot capture the full essence of the original text.” (Asia
Africa Intelligence Wire, 2004) While I will concede this point to a degree,
only in that I feel it is impossible to adequately adapt certain works graphically
(Lord of the Rings, The Metamorphosis, etc.), I do
not feel that it is possible for any author to adapt Art Spiegelman’s Maus strictly to text, and still “capture
the full essence of the original.” So what do manga-style graphic textbooks do better than text-only books?
Dr. Eric Luczaj, a professor in
Miami University’s Department of Computer & Information Technology uses Manga Guide to Databases (2009) as an
optional text in his database class. According to Dr. Luczaj, while the book
does not contain as much depth as a traditional textbook it is a good
introduction to the subject. “It makes the material accessible to students by
putting a difficult subject into a format that was not so academically dense.
Not all students learn in the same way, and I like to have as many options
available to them for learning the material.” (Luczaj, 2012) Not so coincidentally,
Manga Guide to Databases is one of
several manga textbooks the Virginia Department of Education's Training and Technical Assistance Center (T/TAC) at Virginia Commonwealth University recommends
to its faculty.
Manga
Guide to Databases is one of a series of educational textbooks produced by No Starch Press. Other books in the series include: Manga Guide to Molecular Biology (2009), Manga Guide to Calculus (2009), Manga Guide to Relativity (2011),
and Manga Guide to Regression Analysis
(coming 2013) to name a few. These EduManga books are translations of a bestselling
series in Japan, co-published with Ohmsha, Ltd., of Tokyo, a publisher
of science and engineering books. All of the books are written by accredited
authors, lending to the credibility of the content material. For example, Mana
Takahashi, the author of Manga Guide to Databases
is a graduate of the Tokyo University where she teaches Economics, and Dr. Masaharu
Takemura, the author of Manga Guide to
Molecular Biology has written several books on biology, and lectures on biology,
molecular biology, and life sciences at the Tokyo University of Science.
In
Blogs #1 & 3 I mentioned the attitudinal instruction “manga” comic, Japan Inc., An Introduction to
Japanese Economics (University of California Press, 1988. 313-pages), by Ishinomori Shōtarō
(1938–1998). “Manga”
Nihon keizai nyumon (1986), as it was titled in Japan, was the “trigger for
the growth of educational manga for adult readers.” (Murakami & Bryce, 2009,
49) In “Manga as an Educational Medium” (The
International Journal of the Humanities, Volume 7, Number 10, 2009, 47-55),
Satsuki Murakami and Mio Bryce, both from Macquarie University, NSW, Australia,
believe that it is manga’s (sequential art’s) hybridity of the visual and
linguistic that makes this artform such a powerful learning tool (see Blog #7
for my take on Duel Coding Theory and sequential art). The following
is Murakami’s and Bryce’s review of the literature, which I am reprinting here
for the benefit of those who do not have access to the article.
Many scholars have shown those hybrid
texts of the verbal and the visual help readers’ efficient understanding and
learning. For example, using Dual Coding Theory, Paivio (1986) explains that
our cognitive system consists of two parts, the verbal system and the
non-verbal systems, which are processed through different channels. When images
or figures match the verbal input, they are encoded by both the verbal and
non-verbal systems, thus promoting memory more strongly than in the case of
verbal or visual input alone. Anderson and Bower (1973) likewise state that
memory of verbal information is enhanced when relevant visual images are
provided. Larkin and Simon (1987) also emphasize that the ability to process information
is enhanced when text is augmented with pictures. McCrudden, Schraw, Lehman &
Poliquin (2007) further showed that the underlying cause-and-effect in
sentences are understood more easily when there are visual clues of the
cause-and-effect. Moreno and Mayer (1999) also demonstrate that multimedia is
effective for learning.
Using the abovementioned approaches,
Tamada (2008) asserted the effectiveness of manga as an educational tool.
Likewize, Murata (2008) found that manga promotes readers’ effective understanding
by spelling out the thematic focuses in the illustrations. Additionally,
Hasegawa (2002) demonstrated that manga can be read in a shorter time and give
a stronger impression than conventional text books.
William
Spencer Armour refers to the use of manga for educational texts as “The Rise of
‘Soft Power Pedagogy.’” (Armour, 2011) Armour asserts that there are multiple
ways of knowing, and that there is validity and value in different approaches. Armour
also believes that integrating different approaches “results in a more complete
understanding of complex issues.” (Armour, 2011, 128) In “The Graphic Novel: a ‘Cool’
Format for Communicating to Generation Y” (Business
Communication Quarterly, Volume 72, Number 4, December 2009, 414-430), Jeremy
C. Short and Terrie C. Reeves feel that the “dense, pompous, and
largely impenetrable writing” of business negatively impacts learning, and that the “graphic
novel format would allow our field to keep pace with other disciplines while
incorporating a more accessible format and has the potential to influence
society while simultaneously utilizing a more engaging medium appropriate for
today’s generation of business students.” (Short & Reeves, 428) Essentially,
all of this is identical to the conclusions drawn earlier by Luczaj.
Much
has been said regarding the benefits of, and need for using a combined
visual/verbal artform in helping students learn. So when will we finally see a
full-blown graphic textbook meant for teachers to build a class around? When
will graphic textbooks no longer be considered “optional,” but rather “primary” textbooks?
Charles Wirgman and the Beginning of Manga
Those
who know the history of Manga have heard the name, Charles Wirgman (1832–1891)
before. Wirgman was a graphic journalist/news correspondent for The Illustrated London News. Wirgman
arrived in Yokohama
in 1861, just two years after it opened as Japan’s first
international port of commerce, and lived there the rest of his life. In 1862,
Wirgman began publishing his monthly illustrated humor publication, The Japan Punch, which satirized the
Europeans living in the protected Kannai ("inside the
barrier") district of the city. Unfortunately, that is pretty much the
extent of what most people know about Wirgman. However, how Wirgman arrived in
Yokohama, and how European visual social parody became such a huge influence on
Japanese culture is an amazing journey that began thirty years earlier in
France.
Subversive Imagery and
the “Liberty of the Crayon”
Following The French Revolution of 1830, freedom
of the press was restricted, and political caricatures were deemed more
seditious than words because of their visceral nature and broad appeal. It was
perceived that the illiterate populace, referred to as the “dark masses,” was
“highly susceptible to subversive imagery.” (Goldstein, 1998, 785) Surprisingly,
illustrations were not subject to pre-publication censorship restrictions the
same way text articles were, but post-publication prosecutions were profuse.
From 1831–1835, there were 736 prosecutions brought against the press, yet over
60% of these ended in acquittals.” (Goldstein, 1998, 789)
La
Silhouette (1829–1831) was one of the
publications targeted by the monarchy. La Silhouette was the first
French publication to give text and illustrations equal importance. It was the
prototype for political satire publications, and was co-founded by French
caricaturist, Charles Philipon (1800–1861). Originally intended to be
politically moderate, La Silhouette became increasingly liberal, and in
the 1 April 1830 issue Philipon furtively inserted an unsigned caricature of
Charles X of France dressed as a Jesuit. The image caused a scandal due to the
strict government censorship laws that prevented the publishing of caricatures
of politicians. The paper’s manager Benjamin-Louis
Bellet (not Philipon) was sentenced to six months in prison and fined 1,000
francs. La Silhouette was financially crippled, but before he was
fired, Philipon began a second political satire newspaper, La Caricature
(1830–1835). (Goldstein, 1998, 789)
Censorship of the press grew more
intense, and so too did the punishments. In its early years La Caricature
was seized close to thirty times post–publication for its caricatures, which
resulted in ten prosecutions. French historian, Paul Thureau-Dangin (1837–1913)
believed that Philipon was “one of the most dangerous adversaries for [King
Louis-Philippe].” (Goldstein. 2000, 143)
For his cartoon depicting the king plastering over the promises of 1830,
Philipon was sentenced to six months in prison and fined 2,000 francs.
(Goldstein, 1998, 790) At his hearing Philipon stated that his drawing was
symbolic and that since the royal insignia was not present in the illustration,
the figure was not actually the king. Furthermore, arguing that the court had
no control over the “liberty of the crayon,” Philipon drew his infamous, four
panel sequence, Les Poires (The Pears), transforming the face of
Louis-Philippe into a pear. Philipon asked the court if the resemblance between
the king and the pear meant that artists could no longer draw the fruit?
(Childs, 51) While the exercise did not help his case, the iconic Les Poires,
which was also French slang for “simpleton,” became a derogatory icon among
political caricaturists for Louis–Philippe’s July Monarchy.
There is one aspect of the Louis-Philippe 4-part
sequence that, as far as I know, has never been broached. Beginning in 1827,
Swiss schoolmaster, Rodolphe Töpffer (1799–1846) began creating sequential
narratives or “picture stories” that he shared with his friends and students.
Töpffer has long been considered the Father of the Comic Strip with the
publication of his first album, Histoire de Monsour Jabot in May 1833.
However, Charles Philipon’s 4-panel Les Poires (redrawn left by Daumier) appeared
in La Caricature a year-and-a-half earlier on 24 November 1831. Though
it was never intended to be a new artform, Les Poires is actually the
world’s first published sequential newspaper comic narrative;
technically making Philipon the “Father of the Comic Strip.”
Philipon, along with other
non-violent criminals, was placed in the "Pavilion of Princes"
section of the Sainte-Pélagie prison in Paris. In this bizarre judicial form of
incarceration, Philipon not only edited La Caricature, but also
continued producing political cartoons from his prison cell. It was not uncommon
for journalists to reserve their favorite cells ahead of time, or to be taken
to court from jail to answer censorship charges for articles written while in
prison. Other than being besieged by fellow inmates to draw their portraits,
Philipon weathered his “captivity”
well. It was while he was imprisoned that Philipon, with the help of one of his
most prominent artists, Honoré Daumier (1808–1879), (who was at the time
confined for his caricature, Gargantua) conceived of his next publishing
venture. (Goldstein, 1998, 794; Spencer, 26; Passeron, 67-72) Philipon, along
with his brother–in–law Gabriel Aubert, created a third illustrated newspaper, Le
Charivari (meaning Hullabaloo in English, 1832–1937). The
publication dealt primarily with social commentary, thereby evading many of the
censorship problems that plagued La Silhouette and La Caricature.
Philipon (left) was following in the
tradition of pictorial satirist and social critic, William Hogarth (1697–1764),
and his publications had a tremendous impact on nineteenth century illustration
and painting. Other French artists who began their impressive careers with
Philipon included J. J. Grandville, Paul Gavarni, Achille Jacques-Jean-Marie
Devéria, André Gill, Henri Monnier, Charles J. Traviés, Alexandre-Gabriel
Decamps, and Paul Gustave Doré, who lived with Philipon after he moved to Paris
at the age of fifteen.
In
1832, Philipon undoubtedly knew that censorship laws would become increasingly
more constrictive, and they did. By focusing on social commentary, he had hoped
to not only avoid further fines and incarcerations (which, unfortunately, did
not happen), but also speak to a broader readership (which, thankfully, did
happen). Since Le Charivari was not politically driven, it did not
polarize potential subscribers against it. This type of broad market appeal
would become the basis for not only the Illustrated Press, but modern news
reporting as well.
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The influence of Philipon’s
publications reached beyond the borders of France. In England, journalist and
co-editor Henry Mayhew, co-editor Mark Lemon, printer Joseph William Last, and wood-engraver
Ebenezer Landells (who apprenticed under Thomas Bewick, the man who redefined
wood engraving for the nineteenth century) created their own illustrated review
of social eccentricities titled, Punch (1841–1992; 1996–2002). Mayhew,
an avid reader of Le Charivari, conceived of Punch while he was
living in Paris, avoiding his creditors back in England. It was decided that Punch
would take a “comedy of manners” approach to humor, abandoning Regency
caricatures altogether, and focus wholly on the foibles of the upper class. As
an acknowledgment to its source, and probably conceived as a marketing strategy
as well, Punch was subtitled, The London Charivari.
In the wake of the Fieschi Plot, designed to assassinate
King Louis-Philippe, censorship of the press reached its apex, and freedom of
the press was, essentially, eliminated in France (until 1881). Many political
caricaturists turned their skills to social commentary to avoid prison.
Daumier, one of the leading satirists of his time, abandoned political parody
entirely and focused on caricatures of Parisians. This abrupt shift away from
overt political satire towards a more subtle critique of French society brought
about a close examination of bourgeois life that surfaced in the Realist
movement that emerged during the mid-nineteenth century. It was in this climate
of oppression that the weekly French newspaper, L’Illustration was born
just one year after the stunning success of The Illustrated London News
in 1842.
Charles Wirgman and The Japan Punch
In
1862 illustrator and humorist, Charles Wirgman published his first issue of The
Japan Punch, eventually producing 220 issues during its twenty-five-year
run. (Cooper, 484) Wirgman had lived in Paris in the early 1850s, and his
cartoons share a stylistic resemblance to some of L’Illustration’s
leading cartoonists/social satirists such as: “Cham,” “Marcelin,” “Stop,” “Randon,” and Töpffer. Wirgman was a freelance correspondent for L’Illustration
and a staff artist for The Illustrated London News. In 1857, after the
death of The Illustrated London News’ correspondent Arthur V. Johns,
Esq. H.C.S., Wirgman was sent to China to cover the Second Opium War. Following
the war the multi-lingual Wirgman went to Yokohama where he not only acted as a
mediator and translator between Europeans and Japanese, but also played a vital
role as a mentor and teacher of Western-style oil painting to Japanese artists.
Yet Wirgman’s most notable contribution to the world of illustration was The Japan Punch.
Based
on the original British magazine, Punch, Wirgman’s The Japan Punch
was a humorous, satiric periodical intent on lampooning the politics and
society of Yokohama. Although it was intended for Western audiences, The
Japan Punch made its way into the hands of Euro-curious Japanese for whom
political satire became another cultural import. The Japanese loanword, ponchi-e
(meaning Punch pictures, or satirical
sketches) is directly attributed to The Japan Punch and became that
language’s first loan-word for cartoon. (Duus, 996) Publication of
intellectually stimulating and funny drawings with underlying, sometimes
hidden, meanings became so popular that it spawned several Japanese versions
including: Eshinbun Nipponchi (1874,
three issues) by Kanagaki Robun (pseudonym) and Kawanabe Kyosai; Kisho Shimbun (1875) by Hashizume Kinzo
and Tsukioka Yoshitoshi; Marumaru Chinbun (1877–1882) by Nomura Fumio; and Garakuta-chinpō (1879) (Meech-Pekarik, 179;
Schodt, 1996)
By the
1890s, the word, ponchi-e took on
derogatory connotations, and was replaced by the word, Manga. (Gravett, 21) Wirgman was a valuable observer to the opening
of Japan to the Western world during the late-nineteenth century Meiji
Restoration, and spent three decades chronicling in print the political and
social evolution of that country. Through the influence of The Japan Punch,
Wirgman became one of the fore-fathers of the hugely popular Japanese graphic narrative
format called Manga. What began as a discussion in a French prison in 1832 between
two artists developed into a Japanese art form that has become a multi-billion
dollar international phenomenon.
The Exporting and Importing of Visual Culture
Le
Charivari created a paradigm shift in
publishing that changed the direction of graphic storytelling, and created a
cascade effect whose impact resonated internationally. Punch came to America by way of the many tourists and (especially)
artists who traveled to Europe in the latter part of the nineteenth century.
One such artist, Robert Henri (aka Robert Henry Cozad 1865–1929), shared them
with The Philadelphia Four (William
Glackens, George Luks, Everett Shinn, and John French Sloan), all of whom would
go on to form the core of the Ashcan School, or, to use the less deprecating title,
the Urban Realists.
Several
of the Urban Realists taught at The Art Students League in New York, and it is
not surprising that their style of socio-cultural representational art came to
influence Norman Rockwell (1894–1978), and many other twentieth century artists
who studied there. For American visual satirists, Punch was also the forerunner of Harvey Kurtzman’s (1924–1993) incredibly
popular and widely influential Mad
magazine. Comic books and graphic novels are part of a rich visual culture history
that ties back to Hogarth, Le Charivari,
and Punch.
Topics for Discussion
1)
What other Manga textbooks that have not been translated into English can be
adapted into undergraduate graphic textbooks?
2)
What is missing from this research?
Next Blog: The Dark
Side of Digital, The Graphic Textbook Model, & Concluding Remarks
Addendum: Unpublished Information About Charles Wirgman
The following is new information I
uncovered regarding Charles Wirgman while working on my Master’s Degree in
History of Art. It is unpublished, but I shared it with Wirgman scholar, Professor
John Clark, a member of the Art History and Film Studies department within the
Faculty of Arts at the University of Sydney, Australia. Some of this material was referenced by Dr. Clark in a
paper he delivered in 2011 at the Wirgman exhibition in Yokohama (the paper has
since been published in Kindai Garon).
Since this information has
only tangential meaning to my dissertation on graphic textbooks, and since I do
not plan on developing a paper about it, I decided to make it available here
for other Wirgman scholars to use (please credit appropriately). While
researching Wirgman, I found the writings of both Professor Clark and Jozef
Rogala invaluable. I also saw that there were holes in the research. Three
things remained unknown about Wirgman: 1) With whom did he study with in Paris;
2) When did he move to London and how did he end up working for The Illustrated London News; and 3) What
prompted his being selected to go to China as a news correspondent?
One watercolor titled “My academy
dinner/March 3d 1854” I believe answers the first question. The piece
illustrates Wirgman sitting by himself at a makeshift table eating his meal.
Wirgman’s reference to “My academy” rather than to a specific academy is a significant
clue. It is also important to note the date because the Paris Salon made its
selections in the spring. Rather than portraying himself surrounded by a
whirlwind of confusion and chaos, which would be the norm for students in the
academy or the atelier of a named artist prior to the Salon opening, Wirgman is
alone. There is no documentation for Wirgman ever receiving formal artistic
education because, I believe, he was never accepted into a studio; however, I
am certain he worked for the weekly newspaper, L’Illustration in some capacity.
The answer for the first part of
question two was found by accident. While looking through copies of L’Illustration for another project I
came across a Wirgman illustration dated eight months after he painted “My
academy dinner.” Wirgman’s first credited illustration as a “correspondent” appeared
on 11 November 1854. For the next two years L’Illustration
published several illustrations by Wirgman. The amount of work he produced for L’Illustration would not have been
enough to support him, and after June of 1856, his contributions ceased. It was
probably around this time that Wirgman began working for The Illustrated London News.
The
Illustrated London News (ILN)
employed dozens of artists and craftsmen around the clock to make its weekly
deadline. Among ILN’s leading correspondents during the 1850s were E.A.
Goodall, J.A. Crowe, J.W. Carmichael, and R. Landells. While the names of these
distinguished correspondents appeared in print under their illustrations the
majority of the newspaper’s images were uncredited. Though it is impossible to
conclude beyond all doubt that Wirgman produced some of these uncredited pieces
for ILN prior to his leaving for China, several illustrations, similar
to Wirgman’s style, begin to appear in ILN shortly after he arrived in
London. It was not uncommon for L’Illustration and ILN to use the
same prominent freelance artists, such as Gustave Doré (1832-1883) or Edmund
Morin (1824-1882), but it may have been unusual for a staff artist to be
permitted to work for the competition, which may explain the abrupt cessation
of Wirgman’s art in L’Illustration. If these Wirgman-like illustrations
are indeed Wirgman’s, and if he was on ILN’s staff, then it would help
to explain why he was chosen to go to China, since it is inconceivable for ILN
to have sent someone without having previously worked with them, and known what
they were capable of producing.
Though no documents exist to confirm precisely
why Wirgman was sent abroad in 1857 to cover the Second Opium War, we may
conclude that he was probably selected to fill an immediate vacancy due to the
death of Arthur V. Johns, Esq. H.C.S., one of ILN’s Graphic Journalists reporting from China. The obituary for
Johns appeared in the 11 April 1857 issue of ILN along with his final illustrations. While publication of the
obituary appeared after Wirgman left for China it must be remembered that
notification of John’s death would have arrived well before the paper received
his drawings, and had them made into engravings. The fact that Wirgman could draw and was
fluent in English, French, German, Italian, and Dutch, knew Latin and Greek,
and could write in Spanish and Portuguese made him the perfect foreign
correspondent. At just twenty-four, Wirgman left for the war and the Far East.
Analysis of Wirgman’s
Art
By examining Wirgman’s sketches and
watercolors critically, we can conclude that he did not have a sophisticated
understanding of the basic principles of perspective. This lack of comprehension
on the part of Wirgman is further affirmation that he never received formal art
training. A thorough knowledge was crucial in nineteenth century
representational art, and painters such as Jean-Léon Gérôme (1824–1904) hired a
professional perspectivist to help design his paintings (Note: the
perspectivist left Paris due to the Franco-Prussian War and never returned,
which is why the perspective in Gérôme’s paintings after Pollice Verso is sometimes off). While some people look at
Wirgman’s work for ILN and remark on
his skill as an illustrator, others look at his cartoons for The Japan Punch and marvel at the
dichotomy between the two styles and the talent needed to produce both. However,
we cannot use Wirgman’s illustrations for either ILN or L’Illustration as
a means to gauge his artistic skill because the process used in creating the printed
image obfuscates the original artist’s contribution.
Due to the great distance Wirgman could
only send drawings back to ILN, which
were then redrawn onto the woodblocks for engraving. While the basic idea for
the image was Wirgman’s it was the responsibility of the transcriber to correct
for any design or perspective problems. By comparing a Wirgman sketch and
watercolor with the accompanying ILN
wood engravings we can see how much of the art was redrawn, and just how little
Wirgman knew of perspective. The following images are from (1) A Sketch Book of Japan By C. Wirgman, Yokohama:
R. Meiklejohn & Co., circa 1884; (2) Watercolor by Charles Wirgman, circa
1864; and (3) Japanese Party at Meals (based on a sketch by Charles Wirgman), The Illustrated London News, 23 July
1864.
If Wirgman did not have formalized
art training then how was he able to become proficient enough to find work as a
Graphic Journalist? It has been said of Wirgman that he was merely a talented
amateur and there is considerable merit to that allegation. One of the
unanswered questions in nineteenth century visual culture relates to
ascertaining the factors that contributed to the proliferation of artists
during the last quarter of the century. While formal art education was not available
to young, middle class children, used copies of illustrated newspapers were
plentiful. Children who like to draw will find anything to copy and the lure of
scenes of battles and faraway lands that were portrayed so vividly, so
dramatically in the illustrated press were like manna to the imaginations of
youthful artists. For disadvantaged children, born during and after the 1830s, The Illustrated London News and L’Illustration were, undoubtedly, their
first art primers. Though unintentional, the art in these weekly, illustrated
newspapers achieved a greater purpose than merely being a vehicle to sell
commodities and inform the public. These black & white illustrations were
the provenance for the increase of artists in the latter half of the nineteenth
century. Wirgman, like many others of his generation, appears to have learned
his craft by copying illustrations. This type of top-down learning would
explain his lack of understanding of the basic underlying principles of
perspective and why his art appears to be that of a “talented amateur.”
On
the back of Wirgman’s 1876/1877 sketchbook, written fifteen years after he
arrived, he wrote, “There are some countries one gets tired of but Japan is as
fresh today as it was the first time Punch saw it, and charms as much.”
(Clark, 2001, 75) Wirgman truly loved Japan, even though he was almost
assassinated several times! After all of his European friends eventually moved
away in the early 1880s, Wirgman stayed until his death in 1891. Of his art, it
could be said of him that he was the proverbial “big fish in a small pond.” As
a talented amateur it is unlikely he would have ever amounted to much had he
stayed in Europe; however, in Japan he was needed, he was useful, he was
admired, and he played a considerable role in establishing relations between “foreigners”
and his adopted home.
Of
Wirgman’s contribution John Clark wrote: “Despite its limitations, his work has
always remained as the first significant body of drawings and paintings by a
Western artist working in Japan with which Japanese were in contact.” (Clark,
1990) After hundreds of illustrations, countless paintings, tinted photographs,
and thousands of pages of caricatures, Wirgman’s legacy lies not just in his skill
as an artist, but in his ability as a teacher as well. Today, Wirgman is
considered “the patron saint of the modern Japanese cartoon,” and a ceremony is
held annually at his grave in Yokohama. (Schodt, 40) On the grave are inscribed
the Bard’s words: “He was a man of infinite jest,” in remembrance of good old Punch. Though forgotten by Western
audiences, Charles Wirgman should be remembered as a major contributing force in
shaping Japan’s visual culture.
