In my daily life, I often reflect on the theme of good versus evil, striving to do right by my family, friends, and boyfriend as life grows busier with work, children, and changing circumstances. Unlike the clear heroes and villains of traditional stories, distinguishing right from wrong can be complex, prompting me to explore how different cultures define morality. As a Christian, I rely on the Bible as my moral compass, but in this class, we cannot use Western art, which often draws on Christian themes. This led me to explore non-Western perspectives, where the struggle between good and evil is depicted in diverse ways, from Japanese mythology to Incan rituals. My first chosen work is Gozu Tennô (=Susanoo) and Inada-hime by Utagawa Yoshitora, a Japanese print depicting a heroic struggle that resonates with my fascination with Japanese culture and its symbolism. This piece aligns with my interest in how good versus evil is portrayed in a non-Western context, showing a traditional battle of heroism. My second piece, a Ceremonial Knife (Tumi) from the Incan culture, offers a contrasting perspective. For the Inca, prior to the Spanish conquest, good and evil were not about heroes and villains but about pleasing the gods through sacrifice, with the tumi used in these rituals. In a Christian sense, such sacrifices were abandoned in the Old Testament, yet for the Inca, spilling blood was a “good” act to ensure the empire’s survival, while failing to sacrifice was “evil,” risking droughts and disasters. Through these works, I will tell a story of how good and evil are defined differently across cultures—heroism in Japanese art versus sacrifice in Incan rituals—challenging my own understanding of morality and revealing unexpected parallels with Christian concepts of sacrifice.
Japanese Ukiyo-e and the Art of Heroism
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Analyzing Susanoo’s Battle in Ukiyo-e Prints
The work was created using the ukiyo-e woodblock printing technique. Kuniteru drew the initial composition, and skilled artisans carved the design into multiple wooden blocks. Printers applied ink and pigments to the blocks, pressing them onto washi paper to create the final print. From my research, I understand that creating a single ukiyo-e print design took weeks to months, depending on its complexity. I learned that ukiyo-e prints were inexpensive in their time, similar to the cost of a bowl of noodles or a cheap meal (roughly a few hundred yen in modern terms, or less than a dollar). They were designed for mass consumption, not as luxury items. I would almost consider these prints to be like comic books in value. In Edo-period Japan, people encountered ukiyo-e prints in shops, markets, or bookstores, where they were sold as single sheets or in series. Viewers would have seen the prints up close, appreciating their vivid colors and dynamic compositions. They might have been conversation pieces in teahouses or decorative items in merchants’ homes. The prints are relatively small (typical ukiyo-e size, about 14 x 10 inches or 36 x 25 cm), designed for intimate viewing rather than public display. The size of the prints surprised me, as I had always imagined them to be scroll-like, long, and wide. Another thing to note is that the prints were portable and not fixed to a specific location, unlike sculptures or architecture.
Christian Reflections on Japanese Heroism
The print served both entertainment and cultural education purposes. It popularized mythological narratives, making stories from the Kojiki accessible to the masses. It also had a commercial function as part of a profitable series (Honchô Eiyû Den) celebrating Japanese heroes. The depiction of Susanoo and Inada-hime reinforces themes of heroism, protection, and divine triumph over chaos, resonating with Shinto beliefs and Japanese cultural identity. It celebrates Susanoo as a national hero, connecting contemporary Edo viewers to their ancient mythological roots. The work conveys the triumph of good (Susanoo) over evil. Susanoo showcases virtues important to heroic figures, such as courage, sacrifice, and divine protection, while Inada-hime symbolizes purity and humanity’s need for heroes. I also think the print promotes cultural pride in Japan’s mythological heritage. Yoshitora uses dynamic poses and expressive gestures to highlight Susanoo’s strength and Inada-hime’s grace, creating narrative tension that draws viewers in. You can see that Susanoo occupies most of the space within the print, making him the focal point.
The bold colors and flowing lines emphasize the divine and heroic nature of the figures, with Susanoo’s aggressive stance contrasting Inada-hime’s delicate form. If you look at Susanoo’s foot, it’s quite detailed and angular, conveying strength and power in his body. Inada-hime’s face is less detailed, and she stands behind Susanoo, suggesting she is being shielded from evil by him. Traditional attributes (e.g., Susanoo’s sword or divine attire) signal his mythological status, familiar to Edo audiences. The series title (Lives of Heroes) frames the print as part of a broader celebration of Japanese valor, enhancing its patriotic undertones.
The “patron” was likely a commercial publisher whose goal was to create profitable, popular art. The publisher’s wishes are conveyed through choosing Susanoo, a well-known mythological figure recognized by many potential customers. I learned that the piece is part of a series called Honchô Eiyû Den, which would attract collectors and fans of the series to purchase the print. Because the print was affordable to produce and used a reproducible medium, it met the publisher’s need for an economical art design. The vivid colors, dynamic composition, and clear storytelling make it engaging, relatable, and memorable. As this print depicts a well-known myth, it connects viewers to their heritage, evoking pride and fascination. The precision of woodblock printing showcases the collaborative skill of the artist, carvers, and printers, elevating a “commercial” work to high art. The piece may seem like a simple drawing, but those who understand woodblock printing would appreciate the immense effort required to create a single piece. Its small size and affordability reached many viewers and helped make this woodblock print, like others, a cultural staple of Edo society.
Since childhood, I’ve loved Japanese culture, from Pokémon and anime to practicing origami and studying the language. This ukiyo-e print, Gozu Tennô (Susanoo) and Inada-hime by Utagawa Yoshitora, reignites my passion for Japanese art and culture. It highlights the universal theme of good versus evil, with Susanoo as the hero saving the damsel Inada-hime, echoing Western narratives despite the distinct Shinto beliefs and artistic style. The shared theme across such distant cultures amazes me, achieved through the print’s vivid depiction of heroism and its cultural resonance. The contrast between Susanoo’s power and Inada-hime’s elegance creates tension, while the vibrant ukiyo-e aesthetic draws the eye. The mythological narrative invites exploration of Japan’s cultural history, sparking intellectual conversation.
Ukiyo-e as Cultural and Moral Art
I learned that Ukiyo-e prints like Gozu Tennô (=Susanoo) and Inada-hime by Utagawa Kuniteru blend high art with popular culture. Initially seen as commercial products, these prints gained significance as cultural artifacts due to their intricate woodblock craftsmanship and collaborative creation. The mythical storytelling of Susanoo’s heroism elevates this piece beyond a mere shop item, making it a culturally and historically significant collectible worthy of widespread appreciation.
The Incan Tumi and the Meaning of Ritual Sacrifice
Naymlap’s Divine Role in Incan Tumi
The tumi depicts Naymlap, the legendary founder or colonizer of the Lambayeque Valley on Peru’s north coast. He is shown standing with his arms over his abdomen, wearing an elaborate headdress adorned with turquoise inlays. The artist is unknown, which is common in Pre-Columbian Andean art, including that of the Chimú and Sicán cultures. This tumi belongs to the Chimú culture, but its depiction of Naymlap suggests influence from the Sicán people of the same region. It was likely commissioned by Chimú or Sicán elites, such as royals or religious leaders, as the Art Institute of Chicago notes that such tumis were made in royal workshops and ceremonially presented to high officials for use in rituals. The tumi is crafted from gold with turquoise inlays in the headdress and ear ornaments.
The tumi was created between 1100 and 1470 CE, during the Chimú period. By depicting Naymlap, it likely refers to the legendary past, specifically the founding of the Lambayeque Valley. It was made on the Peruvian North Coast, probably in the Lambayeque Valley or a Chimú workshop. It is currently on display in Gallery 136 at the Art Institute of Chicago.
Christian View on Incan Ritual Sacrifice
The function of this tumi was to serve as a ceremonial blade for sacrifices, specifically for elites and royals. The blade was solid-cast, a technique involving pouring molten gold into a mold. Annealing and repoussé were used to shape the face and body and to incorporate the turquoise inlays.
No timeline is documented for the creation of this piece, but an educated guess suggests it could have taken weeks to months to complete, depending on the resources and skills of the artisans. As it was made in a royal workshop, multiple artisans likely contributed to its creation. Given that it was crafted from gold and turquoise, both rare and sacred materials in Chimú and Sicán cultures, it was undoubtedly expensive. Elites likely ensured that their ceremonial objects were rare and costly, distinguishing them from items associated with lower classes (Ceremonial Knife).
No timeline is documented for the creation of this piece, but an educated guess suggests it could have taken weeks to months to complete, depending on the resources and skills of the artisans. As it was made in a royal workshop, multiple artisans likely contributed to its creation. Given that it was crafted from gold and turquoise, both rare and sacred materials in Chimú and Sicán cultures, it was undoubtedly expensive. Elites likely ensured that their ceremonial objects were rare and costly, distinguishing them from items associated with lower classes (Ceremonial Knife).
Given the Chimú’s documented practice of human sacrifice and the tumi’s design as a cutting tool, it is plausible that this tumi could have been used in human sacrifice, particularly in elite ceremonies where a gold tumi would elevate the ritual’s significance (National Geographic, 2018). For example, a ruler might have used it to initiate a sacrifice, while assistants used plainer tools for the act. However, this tumi was likely primarily a display piece, with less ornate tumis used for actual sacrifices. Regardless of its practical use, the tumi symbolized sacrifice, a necessary act to maintain cosmic balance and prevent chaos and disasters, such as droughts, volcanic eruptions, or earthquakes.
The tumi was likely used by individuals authorized to perform sacrifices, suggesting that those wielding a gold tumi were considered divine or divinely authorized, capable of offering sacrifices to the gods on behalf of others. The tumi is crafted from gold and features a representation of Naymlap, a god depicted standing alone in a stance of strength. His headdress and ear ornaments are adorned with turquoise inlays. Naymlap is roughly equal in size to the blade, and his headdress mirrors the blade’s crescent shape, creating a balanced composition. While not perfectly symmetrical, the design appears intentional. The tumi reflects the Chimú style, characterized by precise metalwork.
The piece is primarily gold, with turquoise inlays in Naymlap’s headdress and earrings. The artist could have omitted the figural element, but by prominently featuring Naymlap, adorned with turquoise, the design emphasizes the god’s strength and the culture’s alignment with divine power. As a patron, I would appreciate Naymlap’s clear depiction, ensuring the tumi’s symbolic weight, and its functional blade, making it a well-crafted piece. Many tumis were produced across Sicán and Chimú cultures, with elites sharing similar preferences for blades deemed worthy of gods and rituals. While tumis vary in blade shape or Naymlap’s size, they maintain a consistent form.
This tumi is striking compared to copper tumis, which lack the brightness of its gleaming gold and vibrant turquoise inlays. As an emblem of rank and a ritual tool, it signified the divine status of its bearer, who participated in sacrificial rituals. The tumi was created using casting, repoussé, annealing, and soldering, showcasing advanced metalwork that likely required multiple artisans and significant time to complete. Its portability, at 34 × 12.7 cm, allowed it to be easily handled during rituals.
The Tumi as a Sacred Incan Moral Symbol
The tumi highlights how cultural beliefs shape perceptions of sacrifice. In Christianity, sacrifice is an Old Testament practice no longer required for salvation, and modern Christians may struggle to justify it morally. In contrast, for the Chimú and Sicán, sacrifice was a moral necessity, a “good” act to protect the community from “evil” disasters. This contrast fascinates me, as both cultures define good and evil oppositely. The tumi’s gold construction, turquoise inlays, and Naymlap’s depiction signal its importance, while the functional blade underscores its role in rituals. For the Chimú, Naymlap’s presence in the tumi meant divine guidance in sacrifices, essential for their society’s survival.
The ceremonial knife, known as a tumi, was used in Incan sacrificial ceremonies and crafted from gold, often featuring a figure possibly representing Naylamp, the mythical founder of the Lambayeque Valley on Peru’s north coast. At first glance, this piece’s value is evident due to its gold construction, its depiction of an important historical figure, and the carefully selected stones inlaid for both aesthetic and functional purposes. The tumi’s blade indicates it was likely used to sacrifice animals and, in some cases, humans. For my project, I will focus on how the Inca believed that performing sacrifices was “good” because it pleased their gods, while failing to sacrifice was “evil,” as it could bring droughts, earthquakes, and other calamities upon their people.
Good vs. Evil: Japanese Heroism vs. Incan Ritual Compared
When comparing the print of Susanoo (Gozu Tenn?) with the tumi, at first glance, you might not consider these pieces to have any similarities. One originates from South America, specifically the Incan culture, while the other comes from East Asia, namely Japan. Despite their lack of historical or cultural connection, both depict the theme of good versus evil, though in contrasting ways. The Inca believed that sacrificing to their gods was “good” because it prevented earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and famines, whereas the Japanese print reflects a traditional narrative of good versus evil, such as a warrior protecting a princess.
Sources
“Ceremonial Knife (Tumi).” The Art Institute of Chicago, Arts of the Americas