On this day in 1952 the writer received from William A. Dwiggins of Hingham, Massachusetts a limited edition printing of an excerpt from the pen of Hokusai, the remarkable 19th century Japanese draughtsman, book illustrator, painter, and wood engraver. The philosophy expressed in this fragment from the introduction to Hokusai‘s Hundred Views of Fuji unquestionably conveys WAD’s own dispassionate approach to a lifetime in the field of graphic arts, during which he achieved the first rank in as many specialties as the Japanese artist himself. Certainly everyone who knew Dwiggins and recognized the notable contribution he made to American design will perceive his affinity to the viewpoint of the Japanese.

“From the age of six,” wrote Hokusai, “I had a mania for drawing the forms of things. By the time I was fifty I had published an infinity of designs; but all I have produced before the age of seventy is not worth taking into account. At seventy-three I have learned a little about the real structure of nature, of animals, plants, trees, birds, fishes and insects. In consequence, when I am eighty, I shall have made still more progress; at ninety I shall penetrate the mystery of things; at a hundred I shall certainly have reached a marvelous stage, and when I am a hundred and ten everything I do, be it a dot or a line, will be alive.

“I beg those who live as long as I do to see if I do not keep my word.

“Written at the age of seventy-five by me, once Hokusai, today Gwakio Rojin, the old man mad about drawing.”

Hokusai died in his eighty-ninth year, just short of penetrating the mystery of things, while Dwiggins died at seventy-six just after having learned a little about the real structure of nature, of animals, plants, trees, birds, fishes and insects.