Louis Marie-Julien Viaud was a writer, who used the pseudonym Pierre Loti.
Viaud was born in Rochefort, Charente-Maritime, France, to an old Protestant family. His education began in Rochefort, but at the age of seventeen, being destined for the navy, he entered the naval school in Brest and studied on Le Borda. He gradually rose in his profession, attaining the rank of captain in 1906. In January 1910 he went on the reserve list.
His pseudonym has been said to be due to his extreme shyness and reserve in early life, which made his comrades call him after "le Loti", an Indian flower which loves to blush unseen. Other explanations have been put forth by scholars. It is also said that he got the name in Tahiti where he got a sun burn and was called Roti (because he was all red like a local flower), he couldn't pronounce the r well so he stuck with Loti. He was in the habit of claiming that he never read books (when he was received at the Académie française, he said, "Loti ne sait pas lire" ("Loti doesn't know how to read"), but testimony from friends and acquaintances proves otherwise, as does his library, much of which is preserved in his house in Rochefort. In 1876 fellow naval officers persuaded him to turn into a novel passages in his diary dealing with some curious experiences at Istanbul. The result was Aziyadé, a novel which, like so many of Loti's, is part romance, part autobiography, like the work of his admirer, Marcel Proust, after him. (There is a popular cafe in current-day Istanbul dedicated to the time Loti spent in Turkey.) He proceeded to the South Seas as part of his naval training, and several years after leaving Tahiti published the Polynesian idyll originally named Rarahu (1880), which was reprinted as Le Mariage de Loti, the first book to introduce him to the wider public. This was followed by Le Roman d'un spahi (1881), a record of the melancholy adventures of a soldier in Senegambia.
Loti on the day of his reception at the Académie française on 7 April, 1892. In 1882, Loti issued a collection of four shorter pieces, three stories and a travel piece, under the general title of Fleurs d'ennui (Flowers of Boredom).
In 1883 he entered the wider public spotlight. First, he publish the critically acclaimed Mon frere Yves (My Brother Yves), a novel describing the life of a French naval officer (Pierre Loti), and a Breton sailor (Yves Kermadec), described by Edmund Gosse as "one of his most characteristic productions".[1] Second, while taking part as a naval officer in the undeclared hostilities that preceded the outbreak of the Sino-French War (August 1884 to April 1885), Loti wrote an article in the newspaper Le Figaro about atrocities that occurred during the French bombardment of the Thuan An forts that guarded the approaches to Hue (August 1883), and was threatened with suspension from the service, thus gaining wider public notoriety.
In 1886 he published a novel of life among the Breton fisherfolk, called Pêcheur d'Islande (Iceland Fisherman), which Edmund Gosse characterized as "the most popular and finest of all his writings."[1] It shows Loti adapting some of the Impressionist techniques of contemporary painters, especially Monet, to prose, and is a classic of French literature. In 1887 he brought out a volume "of extraordinary merit, which has not received the attention it deserves",[1] Propos d'exil, a series of short studies of exotic places, in his characteristic semi-autobiographic style. The novel of Japanese manners, Madame Chrysanthème— a precursor to Madame Butterfly and Miss Saigon and a work that is a combination of narrative and travelog— was published the same year.
During 1890 he published Au Maroc, the record of a journey to Fez in company with a French embassy, and Le Roman d'un enfant (The Story of a Child), a somewhat fictionalized recollection of Loti's childhood that would greatly influence Marcel Proust. A collection
This is a collection of seventy-two photographs taken in Japan in the Nineteenth Century. The art and science of photography came to Japan from Western nations, and all three of the photographers represented here were European. Felice Beato was born in Venice around 1825 and lived in or traveled through Malta, Constantinople, the Crimea (during the Crimean War), the Near East, India, China, and eventually in 1863 came to Japan. Foreigners were still rare in Japan at that time, but Beato's photography studio was very successful.
Baron Raimund von Stillfried und Ratenitz opened another such studio in Japan in 1872. He had been born in Bohemia in 1839. In 1877 he took over Beato's studio. Their photographs were stored together and evidently it is not always apparent which man took which pictures.
Another photographer from Europe was Julien Viaud, who was known by his literary pseudonym Pierre Loti. He came to Japan in 1885. His books about life in Japan were very popular. "In the late 19th Century," wrote Endymion Wilkinson, "Loti's Japan became Europe's Japan."
The fascinating introduction to this book, written by Chantal Edel and translated into English by Linda Coverdale, states, "The photographs of Beato and Stillfried, as well as the writings of Loti, provide more than just travel impressions. It's difficult to imagine the effect the work of these artists had on their generation, but it undoubtedly contributed greatly to the Western infatuation with Japanese art and culture."
With just a couple of exceptions, the photographs in this book are tinted. Stillfried colored his own photographs. Beato had his associate Charles Wirgman, "a renowned watercolorist," hand tint his prints; later they "began hiring local painters who were particularly skillful at achieving the subtle colors of Japanese prints." Some of the tinted pictures shown here might appear to be early color photographs, but frequently backgrounds are not tinted. This is generally very effective.
The photographs are beautifully reproduced. They are all fairly large. There is never more than one to a page and some of them go across a double page. Most are portraits, but there are some landscapes and photographs of buildings. I own a number of photographs from that time and place; the ones in the book are, for the most part, much nicer.
Some of the portraits do not show a background, but just a hazy gray/brown. At times that serves to make the person portrayed stand out more. This is somewhat similar to what Eduard Manet did in his painting "Le Fife." Examples are "Shinto priest" (p. 47), "Portrait of a Woman" (p. 81), "Young Woman" (p. 110), and "Prince in Court Dress" (p. 111). These are all quite striking.
I do not find the photographs to resemble Japanese woodblock prints much. Some of the faces of young women might have been appropriate subjects for Utamaro, but they are nothing like his work.
The one picture that I wish were not included is titled "Execution in the Village of Kizo," photographed by Beato (p. 88). It shows a decapitated crucified body and six severed heads put on display. It is an ugly picture, even aside from the grisly subject matter, and I suspect that was a deliberate choice - an ugly picture of an awful deed.
The most elaborately tinted picture is one of the largest ones titled "The Curiosity Shop," perhaps by Beato (p. 52-53). There are a number of gold-tinted objects as well as intricately colored pieces of porcelain. It also shows a quite glum-appearing couple, who I would guess were the proprietors.
Other subjects include Sumo wrestlers, heavily tattooed men, a Shinto priest, barbers at work, a brothel, vendors, peddlers, men with samurai swords, a man posing as an archer, and some families. There is a man identified as "No actor" (p. 56); that looks like a joke, which is probably why that theatrical style is usually identified in English as "Noh" or "Nō." (Drifting very far off topic, New York magazine many years ago had contests in each issue. One such contest was to make up a cartoon and describe it in words. My favorite, for which I am unable to give attribution, was a picture of an Asian man in an elaborate Japanese costume standing next to a swimming pool. A sign proclaims, "Noh lifeguard on duty.")
There are also two photographs of Japanese men in Western attire (p. 86 & p. 87). One wears a top hat, another a bowler; both hats, especially the bowler, look to me to be too large for the men wearing them. I am reminded of a song lyric by Stephen Sondheim from Pacific Overtures. The man singing is Kayama, a Japanese official beginning to adopt Western ways:
[Kayama removes a bowler hat from the box under his table and examines it.] It's called a bowler hat. I have no wife. The swallow flying through the sky Is not as swift as I Am, flying through my life. You pour the milk before the tea. The Dutch ambassador is no fool. I must remember that.
Later in the song, Kayama has become both more Western and more cynical. He dons a monocle and sings: It's called a monocle. I've left my wife. No bird exploring in the sky Explores as well as I The corners of my life. One must keep moving with the times. The Dutch ambassador is a fool. He wears a bowler hat.
And then there are the photographs of young women, some nude or semi-nude. Several of these pictures are truly lovely: "Young Woman" (p. 43), "Reclining Nude" (p. 46), "Young Woman from Nigata" (p. 64 & front of dust jacket), "Silk Spinner" (p. 94), and the previously mentioned "Young Woman" (p. 110). Not lovely but certainly unusual is "Geisha" (p. 71); the young woman is doing a head-stand in front of an ornamental screen.
The book itself is quite handsome. There is a repeated design of a leaf on the front cover and the pages inside both the front and back covers as well as throughout the Introduction. This appears to me to be cannabis, but it probably is not.
I thought that Once Upon a Time was a rather prosaic title for this book and I was pleased to see that the title of the book when it was originally published in France was Mukashi Mukashi, which I definitely preferred. Then I looked that up and found that the English translation is "Once Upon a Time."
"Once Upon a Time: Visions of Old Japan" is a collection of colored photographic prints by some of Europe's most prolific early photographers of Japan: Felice Beato, Pierre Lotti and Baron Raimund von Stillfried.
The collection is preceded by short biographies of the three photographers. While most people will be content with "just looking" at the photographs, for those interested in the history behind them, and what influenced the compositions these men chose to use, reading the preface is a must.
Much of what they photographed was highly influenced by the commercialization of japonisme (the fascination with "things Japanese")and their own European aesthetic. These photographs were made to sell to the European audience. And while one can certainly say the subjects are Japanese, and the world's they occupy as framed by the camera's lens are vignettes of an old Japan, they are highly constructed to appeal to the target audience.
The Japan at the time of their creation was already moving West and placing what these men sought to capture, behind it.
Fascinating book of photos about a time and era I'd never thought about before (Japan before modernity or industrialization had changed it forever.) The book has one quote that definitely lingers..."Old Japan...(is) now beyond our imaginations."