Читать книгу Collecting Japanese Antiques - Alistair Seton - Страница 8
ОглавлениеCOLLECTING FOR FUN AND WITH WISDOM
Collecting can be a bore or a pleasure, a fleeting crush, or a lifelong passion. You will not know until you get dusty hands in dirty corners and in Aladdin's cave see the beauties of the past in spotless surroundings. Both are stops on your journey! Surprises await you. Shapes that are new to you metamorphose: a brazier becomes a coffee table, a pillow becomes a book rest, a mat changes into a rack, a fish becomes a wall vase. Aladdin's lamp works wonders.
How should you start your adventure into Japanese antiques? One of the best ways is to flip through books on other people's coffee tables or in bookstores, or nose around flea markets. You can browse in galleries like the Tokyo Furniture Museum or catch an exhibition. Listen to friends who have been around longer, especially if they are enthusiastic and have things to show or tell. If you are brave and can resist temptation, you might scan a large store like the Oriental Bazaar in Omotesandō, Tokyo, or steer along Shinmonzen and Furumonzen in Kyoto, if you are in Japan, or go to the Manhattan Antiques Center in New York, or Bond/Kensington Church Streets in London. The first is reasonably priced and has a representative selection of new and old things but is unlikely to have anything unusual. Stores in the others are unlikely to be cheap but may have wonderful things. There are also important regular markets and auctions in the US or Europe where things Japanese turn up in fair numbers, and there are some excellent stores.
Another route is to go to an antiques fair in Japan, New York, or London. Old-timers may say that there is little of interest to see or buy, but go anyway. You will encounter shapes, materials, and colors you have never seen before. Many articles may look shabby but even the less attractive booths will have something you might like. The owners would not be in business long if they did not display items which sell. You may not like their merchandise but obviously somebody else does. It is timely to recall Jack Sprat who ate no fat and his wife who ate no lean. What turns others off, may turn you on. This is particularly true with items arousing feelings of enmity like militaria, or prudishness, such as the erotic pictures called shunga. Women have been taught to avoid such things, so are defensive when they meet them. Later, they may feel curiosity or find the exaggerated members exotic, not offensive, and end up giving one to their man for his birthday.
The museums most famous for Japanese art are in London, Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, New York, Washington DC, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and Toronto, but provincial cities may surprise aficionados with their offerings too.
Fig. 11 Anon.,"Budding Willow with Herons and Stream in Snow," six-panel screen, gold ground with scalloped gold clouds, 18th c., 5 ft 6 1/2 in x 12ft 2 in (1.7 x 3.7 m). Photo courtesy Liza Hyde.
Changing Taste
Taste changes with time. When I was young, everybody looked down on Victorian furniture because it was "heavy and in bad taste." Nowadays, it is back in fashion. This pattern recurs, particularly with the styles of periods too recent for detachment. The artists and works of whole periods may be tarred with the feathers that should stick only to some artists who did inferior work, or used poor materials. For a time people laughed at Art Deco, Grandma Moses, and Lowrie. Now they are worshipped. Meiji art and handicrafts were condemned a generation ago, but now the good parts grace great exhibitions. Taste is fluid in food, clothes, and art.
When foreigners first come to live in Japan, they look around with their old eyes and old ideas, buying things older hands avoid. That is part of the learning process. If you buy nothing you regret later, you must be very controlled or tight with money-certainly not adventurous! But it is usually a good idea to wait a little until, by dint of eating carrots, you can see better in the netherworld.
Taste is determined by time and acclimatization, contact, and knowledge. What you buy in the first few weeks off the plane and what you collect years later differ. You are changed by time spent in a new environment and contact with people and things there. Knowledge of the new way of life you pick up talking, seeing, and living with things lends a new perspective, a new pair of eyes. This is the great thing about learning new languages, or adventuresome journeys: you grow and acquire a new persona. You notice more subtle color variations, textures, and materials you had missed. You understand why people prefer the pre-chemical colors of older textiles and porcelain, and accept the marks of the years on often-washed indigo fabric or child-banged chests. The patina of age seems worth paying for. The eye seeks something different, no longer novelty for its own saké. The eye becomes stricter, or "higher," as they say in Japanese.
To a certain extent, this process is inevitable, but the pace at which it occurs can be slowed or speeded up. The more you search around and keep a lookout for the interesting and beautiful, the faster your eye gets attuned to the new aesthetic, the new hierarchy of values. If you find that nothing much appeals to you, you are free to keep the old eyes and leave Japan the way you came-though aesthetically poorer. In Japan, you can get to know a unique sense of beauty. Cut off from outside influences, the cultural traits already here in the sixteenth century deepened and within a seamless social fabric developed independently. Many forms of art reached a perfection and originality unmatched elsewhere. Welcome to Xanadu and Kublai Khan's easterly stately pleasure dome!
An Occupational Disease
Those who spend decades here as collectors or dealers get jaded and appreciate less sharply the antiques around them. They may remember the wonderful things they saw twenty years before and seek the same quality. Though natural, this path leads to disappointment, like a fisherman recounting the fish that got away. "Distance lending enchantment," growing discernment, the vanishing into museums of many of the nicest things (making fewer available for later private purchase), and occasional theft, breakage, or vandalism are behind this occupational disease. Old hands see the past in rosy tints as they were younger then and prices were lower-and fewer collectors had money-just like them!
If they say there is nothing left worth buying-a common complaint about fairs at Heiwajima or Kyoto, Osaka, New York, or London, there is truth in it-for those people. But readers of this book should realize that each age finds things to collect because the spirit of the age evolves, and generations die, leaving estates formed earlier with other tastes. The adventurous or imaginative will find things to collect long after some say nothing of interest remains. Morita Akio, former head of Sony, had the money to collect Impressionists but instead collected old Victrolas and other phonograph-type things. An investment banker, Richard Weston, came to Tokyo around 1983. He was taken with inrō and netsuke (ornaments suspended from the belt) and collected them. He soon assembled a collection good enough to be honored with an exhibition at Christie's in 1995, accompanied by an excellent book. If he had been dissuaded by older collectors, he would never have started on such a venture. We would all be the poorer.
Others have collected inrō and thought there was little out there unrecorded, but Weston had an imaginative insight: one can assemble the full trio of netsuke, ojime (bead fastener), and inrō from singletons found separately, provided one is lucky and matches them with taste. In this way he built a valuable collection. These separate objects were made by craftsmen skilled in various trades. The sets were made to go together but the motifs were not necessarily the same. By doing the process in the reverse order, Weston found natural-looking pairings. Similarly, Robert Fleischel of Sage-monoya, Tokyo, found danglers hidden for 39 years in an attic.
The Restoration Debate
Most people agree that older objects acquire a certain extra quality through the years, and that this patina is valuable and should be retained if possible. In Japan it is called aji. If everything was kept as carefully as the Imperial treasures in the Shōsōin Imperial Storehouse-taken out only occasionally for airing and checking, never subject to wear and tear from puppies and drinks, kept safely off the ground away from humidity, and guarded against theft-then beautiful things of solid materials should live for centuries. In the real world, though, things do get battered and lost. Moving house, young children, smokers, carelessness, earthquakes, and fire are all causes of grief-and damage.
Fig. 12 Netsuke, wood, of Kaibutsu, a mythological semi-human animal depicted in 56 ken Kisho (1781), unsigned, 5 in (13 cm). Photo courtesy Joe Kurstin.
Fig. 13 Netsuke, ivory, of lkkaku Sen'nin, whose mother was a deer and father a magician, unsigned, ca. 1700, 3 1/2 in (9 cm). Magical hermits gave up worldly desires to reach a higher plane, but in carrying Lady Shanta over a river, lkkaku lost his supernatural power. Photo courtesy Joe Kurstin.
When their condition deteriorates beyond a certain point, barbarians throw old beauties away without a thought. Those who care about their fate face a choice:
To try to coax more life out of a piece by the equivalent of herbal medicine, without substantial surface change. If the patient has slipped beyond a certain point, surgery is pointless. Loving care in a hospice is better than trying to revive a very senior citizen. Instead of criticizing cuts or scratches, they should be treated as badges of honor in the struggle for existence.
To operate surgically, believing that it is meaningless to keep alive a handicapped piece if extensive surgery will make it like new. In doing so, the oldster may lose the patina of age, but it will regain its youthful looks and be structurally stable.
One strong believer in this need for resurrection is Kitano Fumio of Shiga. Aware that Japanese clients rarely purchase a chest if it is battered or dirty, he often has them stripped down. Broken parts are replaced and the chest is re-lacquered following the old methods-applying many coats of natural fuki-urushi lacquer-so the old can be whole and relive under a new skin. The natural materials bond with the underlying wood, so the lacquer helps to preserve the antique in its second life. He avoids fancy chemical finishes like polyurethane, as they do not bond, so one scratch and the whole effect is lost as the wood is not guarded. He uses waxes, not oils, to bring back the sheen where lacquer would not suit. He feels his approach is valid.
Conversely, John Adair of Tokyo believes that radical surgery and complete refinishing are criminal. An antique must be in as original a condition as possible. To take away the patina, is to take away its very life. He would not buy any item which had lost too much. Hearing about a wholesale restoration, he expressed horror but was also grateful, as this should win him new clients who appreciate the unrestored. He can stress the original condition and authenticity of his own pieces to win new clients.
Advantages of Working in Japan
Many people are afraid of the word "antique" as it conjures up images of stupendous auction prices. Many masterpieces are already in museums, but the collectibles in this book are within reach- if you have money or work in Japan. Business people here can afford a little more than if they were living in the US or Europe. To persuade them to come so far, they have to be rewarded by a higher standard of living. Free housing, a car, and some entertainment and travel costs are often included in the package.
But this is not all that working in Japan can offer. There is a self-restraint in the very air. Working Japanese save a substantial part of their salary and this rubs off on foreign residents. Japanese may live in cramped housing but have high disposable incomes because they hold down their inescapable expenses, taxes are not high on average salaries, and the employer pays commuting, unlike, for example, in Europe where commuting is paid out of post-tax income. Combined with low-cost lunches (no Martinis), and the private lives that Japanese lead, this means less stress on consumption. Outside you show or mention only what you choose.
Fig. 14 Glass picture of a beauty, probably made in Tokyo, 1826-75, 15 x 10 in (38 x 25 cm). Photo courtesy Kobe City Museum.
People in Japan do have money for nice things if they want to buy them. The items covered in this book range from museum treasures to ¥100 saucers and we maintain the convenient fictions that ¥120 = US$1, so ¥1,000 = $8, while $1.80 = £1. By the time you read this, the world's currency system may have been turned upside down, but people love a fairy story.
From a historical perspective, the US dollar was worth ¥360 for decades till the Nixon crisis, was some ¥200 in the early 1980s, fell to ¥80 in 1995, and is ¥110 as I write.
Fig. 15 Bronze, parcel-gilt boy and kitten asleep on drum, signed Miyao, Meiji era. Photo courtesy Flying Cranes Antiques.
Fig. 16 Five deeply carved short swords (tantō) ivory, depicting battling samurai, creatures, flowers, birds, and crests. Photo courtesy Flying Cranes Antiques.
Pricing Antiques
In the stock market, every stock has a daily quote: you know a particular share's price and dividend as it is a uniform piece of paper meaning ownership in a future stream of earnings. Antiques are not like that. There is no market price. Each differs and the only dividend is pleasure. For example, you see an attractive Imari bowl, made about 1870 in Arita, Kyūshū, which costs ¥50,000. You wonder if it is worth that. Your reaction shows how the market works. The dealer's price may be higher than yesterday because you are wearing expensive clothes, or lower because she needs cash for a new purchase. The price may be negotiable or fixed. You may decide it is not worth haggling and give up. Or you may want to think about it. Encouraged by the praise lavished on it by a companion shopper, but feeling guilty about spending $400, you give an ultimatum: ¥45,000 is the maximum you will pay. If the dealer agrees, the two of you have decided the price. She was willing to sell and you were willing to buy at that price.
If you show the same bowl to an expert, he or she may say it is worth twice that or half. If this makes you happy or mad, it does not change the facts. The dealer was willing to sell and you were willing to buy at that level, so that was the price. It is important to realize that prices are formed in the eye of the beholders. They are not sacred scripture. The dealer may have lost money or gained, you may have spent too much money to survive the weekend, but seeing that bowl in that setting at that time and in that mood, you bought it at that price- the only valid definition of its worth. It is entirely possible that it would fetch half or twice that price somewhere else, but that is irrelevant. You decided it together.
There is no Dow-Jones index to which you can refer to price a set of five Kutani plates or a wooden hibachi. You can construct an index only for identical things. Each ordinary share of GE is as valuable as the others, so a stock quote is valid. It reflects the price that buyers and sellers think reasonable today, given the information available. The condition and painting of the Kutani dishes mentioned here varies; if sold separately, they would have a different value. The Japanese are used to "sets" of five, so if there were fewer, the value of each added together would be much less than for a full set. If they came in a valid period box, the price might double, especially if the date and maker were written on the box. Similarly, each hibachi varies in size and wood, or at least has different grain. One may have dark burns in the wood but a lovely patina, while another is in excellent condition but rather bland. The buyer and seller must weigh up these factors and decide a suitable price.
Buyer's Checklist
There is no manual (unlike for secondhand cars, stamps, or baseball cards) that can really give you a reference price (though Miller's Price Guide does try). The seller has seen many similar hibachi and remembers roughly what they sold for at auction and in stores. Based on that, the surroundings and season, as well as his desire for profit or the need to sell quickly, he will quote a price. If he admires it, the onlooker will start going through a mental checklist:
Is it as beautiful as I should like?
Will the dealer mend that crack, clean the copper, and order glass for the top?
Can I afford it?
What would my husband/wife/family say?
Where could I put it?
Do I need it?
How would it look in the house back home?
Would I!we always appreciate this souvenir from Japan?
Is it fun to look at, talk about, and use?
Will it survive the air-conditioning back home?
If the answer is "yes" or positive often enough, then the potential customer will also wonder about the dealer. If I discover something terrible, does he seem trustworthy enough to get the problem fixed? How do I know that the price is not too steep?
The answers depend on knowing other people to ask and your assessment of the dealer's location and trustworthiness. If you are with other collectors, you can find out on the spot if the price is about right and a look round should tell you if his shop will be here a long time. If it is in a temple/shrine market, he may not be there again next month. If it is on a downtown street, he will be.
The next step is to discuss the price. Some dealers keep to fixed prices. Some will drop a little if you express interest, particularly at fairs or shrine sales. A third group will offer a sky-high price and then generously offer to reduce it enormously.
Collectors, too, come in different stripes. Those buying top quality pieces are often sure of their judgment and will accept a reasonable price, thinking of the next time too. If they drive a hard bargain this time, the dealer will not bother to look for that special piece. Others, the majority, are small-scale hagglers and feel better if the dealer takes off a bit. After all, they are not buying necessities. The third group is the most feared. They haggle ferociously for hours, as if in a souk. This approach may work, as the dealer finally only wants to get rid of the pesky customer and have a little peace, but it never works a second time. The dealer sees him coming and suddenly the price doubles before it is announced.
Price Trends
Antiques made with quality materials and artistry generally appreciate with time. But this does not mean that you should buy them for investment, without knowledge. There are too many uncertainties. When you spend a few thousand dollars, it is comforting to know that you could resell the item for a similar sum. It was fairly common to assume this was possible in the age of inflation from the 1940s through the 1980s. Indeed, many dealers gave a guarantee that they would buy back an item after a year or two for the purchase price, minus a commission. In Japan, this era ended with the vertiginous ascent of the yen and the fall of the dollar and pound.
In general, young people in Japan feel scant affinity for the old things they see in their grandparents' houses. They are seen as outdated and linked with prewar Japan. The young are unlikely to go crazy over Japanese antiques (anything else is possible, if remotely exotic or cute). At a pinch, they may buy a few usable dishes or other tableware, if in a group. Middle-aged and over collectors are quite common and are less prone to fads. They tend to like the staples of antique shops in Japan: quality porcelain, lacquer, smaller baskets, little pieces of furniture, tea bowls, and other tea-related paraphernalia like caddies.
Occasionally, fashions overtake the antique world. A women's magazine article praising porcelain plates and bowls with taka karakusa or octopus arabesque designs (as occurred a few years ago) may push a panic button among financiers, brothel keepers, and society madames: "If I have no Imari with octopus leg motifs, I am a nothing, so I must have some." The price of that porcelain soared but has come a cropper since. Otherwise, the price of Japanese antiques tends to depend on demand from outside, economic cycles, and the activities of the large auction houses overseas. These, in turn, depend on the currency. If the dollar falls too much, American and European dealers find it cheaper to buy from sources within their country until they run out of stock. Only after those sources dry up do they go back to Japan for another fix. Meantime, the prices of things appreciated mainly by foreigners, like furniture, are weak. On the contrary, when Japan is in the dumps, things liked only by Japanese plummet.
An exception to this was the broad movement to bring Japanese antiques back to their homeland (satogaeri in Japanese). Museums, collectors, and dealers bid high prices for treasures like Kakiemon porcelain which had snoozed on shelves in Europe for centuries. This trend has petered out as many pieces have returned and the buyers are no longer Bubble-rich. They used to crowd auction houses like Christi e's and Sotheby's which issue attractive, well-documented catalogs with price estimates. These offer great information about auction goods and the prices they can command in the West, but the situation within Japan is more hidden. There is no large auction house and most auctions are uncatalogued. Besides, the auctions are open only to those in the trade.
Japanese dealers are keen to promote their own business. They consider the knowledge they have garnered an important proprietary weapon in their battle to make a profit, so many are loath to publicize it. They fear that if everybody knew as much as they do, they could not sell or charge as much. (Some preferred not to give information for this book.) The quality of information in Japanese is also suspect, as most writers are also linked to the trade and may have an interest in the goods they describe. Critics rely more on established tradition and friends' opinions than on new facts.
Fig. 17 Seated gosho ningyō showing three-part body with over-large head, presentation ribbon (mizuhiki) painted on forehead, ca. 1800, ht 15 in (38 cm). Rosen Collection. Photo courtesy Akanezumiya.
Fig. 18 Tsutsugaki futon cover, with phoenix design, Kyūshū, ca. 1900, 5 ft 3 in (1.6 m) square. Photo courtesy Oriental Treasure Box.
Fig. 19 Mori Yoshitoshi (1898-1992), "Tsunemasa's Superhuman Feat," stencil/lithograph, ed. 50, 1972,27 x 20 in (69 x 50 cm). Photo courtesy Tolman Collection.
Investment Versus Fun
Attractive things do tend to rise in price. Netsuke bought in the 1920s for £5 were sold at the 1995 Monzino auction in London for tens of thousands of pounds (or dollars). This may sound wonderful, but there is no sound reason for saying that the same will happen in the future with what you buy. Collectors back then were having fun and buying things they thought had intrinsic beauty and were worth much more. If you decide to buy things now for those reasons, you can be sure of enjoying yourself. At the same time, it is likely that your choice will make financial sense over time as well.
Sometimes cowardice needs to be overcome. Just a year after my wife and I arrived in Japan, we saw a huge set of attractive Imari porcelain for twenty people in Kyoto. We drooled over it for a long time and imagined how it would transform our cramped, under-decorated hutch, but we were cowards. It cost a month's salary and we said we would think about it and call. We never did, and we missed the path to adventure. Sets of similar quality and size no longer appear, let alone for a relative song. My wife may be less partial to porcelain after the Kobe earthquake, but decades later we bitterly regret Robert Frost's road not taken, the one less traveled.
A speculative approach is to guesstimate what museums and other major collectors are buying now and project that into the future. If screens by X sell well because they have been praised by Y and also appear attractive to your eye, then they are probably a good bet for the future. But Y may have been their owner, so be careful! Success all boils down to information, contacts, and taste. If you can equip yourself with friends or dealers who are knowledgeable, and pump yourself up with information about your chosen area, it is quite likely that you will make a killing-but this is no sure thing. Some fashionable British painters a century ago commanded fees higher then than sale prices now, despite the dismal things that have happened to the purchasing power of the pound sterling! If you hear that good quality furniture was cheaper years ago, and assume that the same will happen in the future, you may be right. Or wrong. I believe you are more likely to be right. Nevertheless, that is the wrong reason for starting to buy antiques. If you like old things, are ready to look around and learn lots about them, have money over and above what you need for day-to-day living, have enough space and a consenting family, then by all means buy and have fun.
Creating New Worlds or "Playing House"
Japan is a treasure chest of things new to the average Westerner. Finding out about them can be the most rewarding part of your time in Japan, a treasure hunt, a quest for the Holy Grail itself! If you find it a chore, pursue another goal. If you do decide to take home mementos, you will have fun explaining them to others at home, just as nineteenth-century travelers took home boatloads of curios and told their friends unlikely stories about their function and origin. This aspect of fun is very important.
Michael Dunn, a specialist in fine Japanese art, was once asked to give an insurance valuation for an American family who had collected a house full of cheap knickknacks. Claiming that they had no value to him at all, he asked the parents why they had acquired all that stuff. He was charmed when they answered "for fun." They had not been thinking in terms of investment, and their collection remained a highlight of their time in Tokyo. That family never worried, but many others do. During the Bubble of 1987-90, firms and wealthy individuals assumed that land, house, and antique prices could only go up, so bought them at higher and higher prices without thinking about their intrinsic value.
Many "valuables" bought then are in the hands of accountants, in the office of the original firm if it is still viable, or at the bank which accepted them as collateral. Accountants know nothing about art, so their bookkeeping value is counted as the purchase price plus the compounded interest incurred for their purchase. The tragedy is they will never sell for that, however long the accountants live. At some point, the speculator or his financial backer will have to bite the bullet and sell them for a fraction of the purchase price and forget the accumulated interest. Speculating on antiques without knowledge or taste is unwise, though it may work in a new field in which you are one of the few experts or can rely on one.
Miscellaneous Collecting Areas
It was hard to find the appropriate place within the schema of this book to describe some popular collecting areas, so they appear here to whet the appetite for the longer chapters to come.
Fans
Japanese fans (ōgi) need no introduction. Though fixed fans originated early in China, even most Chinese consider folding fans Japanese in origin, maybe dating from the tenth century. They have always been admired. With air conditioning, they are less important in Japan now, but in the theatrical, Tea, sumō, and dance worlds they remain de rigueur and, like a cigarette or pipe, are a way of projecting a person's individuality. Fans are one of the commonest motifs in art, especially on ukiyo-e and screens.
A stylish book, Ōgi: A History of the Japanese Fan by Julia Hutt and Hélène Alexander, which introduces the Fan Museum of Greenwich, near London, and is largely based on Alexander's marvelous collection, has made lots of detail superfluous.
Historically, China first used large, round ceremonial fans on long sticks and rigid screen fans which were held in the hand. The origin of the folding fan may have been a spontaneous scrunching up of paper or copying of a bat's wing or palm leaves. The two main forms are the folding paper fan, with little rods stuck between two sheets of paper (though some paper fans are unsupported by sticks), and the brisé fan, with slats of wood held together on the outside by flexible material like silk ribbon. In both forms, the slats gather in the middle where they are held by a rivet. The outer leaf may be harder and form a sort of guard to protect it from being rubbed or catching on something when put in your sleeve. Paper fans tended to have shorter lives. Sensu or ōgi are folding fans. Hiōgi are folding fans made of hinoki (Japanese cypress), often for the court. Suehiro indicates a wide-ended fan, so exclude those cheaper paper fans which open only some 90 degrees.
Japanese fixed-form fans include roundish uchiwa (general) and gunbai (military/official fans, for example, for sumō matches, often attached to long poles or stands). Uchiwa get stuck into the base of the back when not in use for firefly hunts or summer festivals, perhaps now with plastic spokes and advertising a local firm or event. They are common gifts in sales promotions.
The quality of a fan depends on the design, the materials from which it is made, and sometimes the artist who painted it. Gold leaf or nice lacquering with, for example, hiramakie, add value, as does the use of an ivory guard or spokes, inlay or decorative carving on wooden slats, tortoise shell for the guards or slats, and the addition of silken tassels. Many old fans no longer have the spokes as the design was appreciated as an independent painting. Indeed, many famous Rimpa painters thought so highly of their work that the fans they painted were never spoked.
Special fans include sutra fans that are covered with, for example, landscapes with sutras painted on top. The text of a Nō play may also appear on a fan. Tessen or gunsen were used by soldiers, mai-ōgi gave dancers more reach and expressiveness. Another form seems to be from Korea: bamboo is split down to a suitable node and the tines are split into spokes for paper. Perhaps the strangest of all are maki-uchiwa which roll up round a central pole (like an umbrella) and a fan case concealing in its guard a knife!
Hutt and Alexander's book mentions large exports to China and Korea in medieval times and many mass-produced millions shipped to Europe and America during the late nineteenth century. Indeed, the care and artistry of fan making was lost but trade gained huge new markets that would not have appreciated the best anyway and advertising gained a new medium: even maps were printed on them in Japan. As I gaze at the 10-slat pāper fan given to JAL passengers long ago, with a moonscape, I regret that new toys and machines of little artistic value beat out graceful things.
Postcards
Japanese postcards produced up to 1941- the first one was issued by the Japanese government in 1873-have a high international reputation for their beauty and educational value, as Roland Barton, a ship postcard collector in Kobe, says in a letter to the author: "Art deco/commemorative cards are preferred by many international postcard dealers due to their vibrant colors, creative designs, raised embossing, often stamped hanko, and their overall artistic quality and periodic inclusion of inset photos of scenery, royalty, ships, important buildings, or other timely events."
No topics were taboo: imperial activities and family, funerals, battles and prisoners, domestic and international exhibitions, businesses and products, health and population statistics, Yoshiwara's red lights, nudes and beauties, various war capabilities, disaster scenes with many dead, and Ainu culture. An interesting article by Donald Rupnow appeared in Daruma 43.
Most cards sent overseas were hand tinted, so duplicate cards may still have different hues and even colors for the townscapes, people, and flora, as hundreds worked in this trade. One fascination is the preservation of history aspect in recording social, cultural, and political events and the ability to notice changes to towns and buildings since the cards were made. Some find particular interest in the cards covering occupied territory in Manchuria, Korea, Taiwan, and Sakhalin, while others are attracted to the stamps.
Washi
Handmade paper in Japan is called washi and it is a vital part of the culture in terms of domestic architecture (shoji and fusuma) as well as lanterns. It is the basis for a lot of the art covered later in this book and it is still used extensively in houses, but I have decided that this huge field is more usable than collectible, so have decided to invite readers to learn more about paper by using the little wallets, stationery, and other souvenirs, visit paper-making villages, see the work of paper designers Horiki Eriko (1962-) or Kita Toshiyuki (see Daruma 37), or read the big book on the subject by Sukey Hughes, Washi: The World of Japanese Paper.
Military Items
A large variety of goods glorifying or recording soldiers, battles, and especially the wars with China (1895) and Russia (1904-5) were turned out by companies in response to the Japanese government's call for patriotism. Mass-produced saké pourers and cups with military themes were frequently given to those signing up for or leaving the armed forces. Many bear the name of a division (like Maizuru Heavy Artillery) or the number of a unit. Some are vague, merely showing a military flag or a naval anchor. Saké cups with propellers or anchors molded into their bases, pictures of Lieut. Fukushima crossing Siberia, and plates decorated with assorted medals, heavy gun batteries or naval battles can also be found. Quite expensive (and attractive) dishes were also made (Fig. 23) showing military scenes. Humorous postcards showing military life are also favorites. Actual military medals are common.
Folkcraft Items
Many things with an "old Japan" feel about them were made for day-to-day activities, and can be classified as folkcraft items. Often these could be used in a number of venues but many are collected here. This is just a short list but there are thousands more.
In a shop: Abacuses (soroban); beckoning cats (maneki-neko) that try to invite happiness and customers into a business; cake molds (kashi-gata), which come in a wonderful variety and are often made of cherry or magnolia wood; bean-counter's fences (kekkai or chōba kōshi); seal boxes (in-bako); statues of Daikoku (Daikoku-ten, god of wealth); shop signs (kamban) displaying outside what kind of goods a store stocks inside, like medicine, pipes, tea, locks, etc. (see Figs. 329, 330); another pair are interesting too-the dai-shō kamban was a sign saying the store had sold lots (dai) or little (shō); candled shop signs (rōsoku kamban), the equivalent of neon-it lit your place up at night, thanks to the light the candle gave; and food delivery boxes with different level trays (okamochi). Yagen (Fig. 20) were used to grind medicines for pharmacies, while hakari weighed things of value, like gold and silver.
In a temple or shrine: Wooden bells (mokugyo) in a kind of shell shape that were struck with wooden sticks; drums; offertory boxes (saisenbako) and general cash holders (zeni-bako); guardian dogs (koma-inu); votive offerings; horse pictures (ema, see Fig. 63); lion-dog head masks (shishi-gashira); images of the Buddha and other Immortals (butsuzō or zushi), usually enclosed in a small box with doors that hide the image from view-very desirable to many collectors who thrill to the romance of the ineffable and fine carving, molding, and age; Inari fox statues; clappers to start theatrical performances (or indicate your time was up with a hired lady), which have a metallic sound but are of wood (hyōshi-gi); conch shell horns (horagai) for communicating at long distance and from island to island, or proving you are a good mountain priest.
Tools: Builders' line markers (sumitsubo, Fig. 21), carved by users who had to show their prowess; spinning wheels (itokuriguruma) and carders (ito-maki); printing blocks or woodcuts (han'-gi); hoes (kuwa); mallets (kizuchi) and other hammers; charcoal scuttles for the hearth or tea ceremony (sumi-bako); cutting tools like saws, planes, and chisels; barbers' chests; peddlers' chests; yam graters (suri-kogi); sculpted lids for vats or jars (futa); pails (oke); rice or saké measures (masu); well pulleys (ido-guruma); well buckets (tsurube); hatchet covers (nata-zaya); hae-toriki or mechanical fly-catchers with a Buddhist element (Fig. 22).
In a house: Hearth hangers (jizai kagi or adjustable height kettle or pot holders, often fitted with fish); candle stands (shokudai or rōsoku-dai/tate, bare or lacquered wood, but often metal and precision-made to be disassembled for transport); pouring bowls (kuchi-tsuki hachi); wooden bowls (ki-zara); savings boxes (chokin-bako), often hung from a wall; writing boxes (suzuri-bako); sewing boxes (hari-bako); trays (bon, zen); pulleys (kassha); wooden locks or crosspieces (yoko-gi); hobbyhorses (mokuba); doll figures of animals or humans; mortars (usu) and pestles for pounding mochi rice; pillows (makura), both wooden and ceramic (Fig. 24); hot water bottles (yu-tampo); large saké barrels (Fig. 25); steps to reach high shelves (fumi-dai); celebratory saké barrels (tsunodaru), and lacquer, bamboo, and pottery decorations (okimono).
Advice on Collecting
Collecting is a natural urge. Many animals do it. Dogs take weird things back to their kennel and bury bones in the garden. Squirrels collect nuts. These activities can be seen as rational: storing nonperishable food for leaner times. Antiques can fit into this pattern, too, if valuable, but you also buy things that you do not need to satisfy a craving. You may want to decorate a room to reflect your personality and priorities. Those personal traits influence your choice. You have to look around and see what antiques please you in other people's homes. Do you like a room warm with Victorian clutter? Do you like modern furniture and austerity? If you like bric-a-brac and a house with a strong sense of being lived in, you can safely buy lots. If you prefer to have few things to dust, then you should pick a few high-quality items which harmonize with your rooms.
Fig. 20 Medicine grinder (yagen), cast metal and wooden handles, 1900-20. Author's Collection.
Fig. 21 Line marker (sumitsubo), great patina, ca. 1850,3 x 7 x 4 in (8 x 18 x 10 cm) Author's Collection.
Fig. 22 Fly-catcher (hae-toriki) patented as Haetoriku, made by Owari Tokei (Clock) Ltd, ca. 1930. Private Collection.
Fig. 23 Small porcelain plates decorated with military themes. Top left: War with Russia (1904-5). Top right: War with China (1894-5). Below: The Satsuma Rebellion (1877). Author's Collection.
Intrinsic Value
Before lashing out thousands on a purchase, you should bear in mind the truth that it should continue to have value in the future. You are advised not to spend lots on a collection of posters, for example, which can be reprinted in the future and have no value in themselves. This concept of intrinsic value is hard to pin down. The utility of furniture guarantees that people will buy it in future, though a particular piece may become more or less fashionable. The solid wood of older Japanese chests, the skills that have gone into their manufacture, and their patina suggest intrinsic value.
Another sign may be long-term interest by collectors. For centuries people have admired Hirado, Nabeshima, Kakiemon, and fine Imari. It fills museums, many scholarly works are written about it, and it is hard to copy satisfactorily today (though people in Southeast Asia are trying extra hard) because of the hand painting, and for technical reasons. Swords have long been treasured and studied, and extremely arduous training is needed to become a proficient smith. A guild also limits the number of swords he may make. The incredible skills and time needed to make lacquer netsuke and inrō ensure they will not be easily copied. Many in the West come with a pedigree showing from which collections they come, providing security and higher value.
Another area with intrinsic value must be works of art such as signed screens and scrolls, cloisonné, and metalwork. Those artists had a long apprenticeship and aesthetic training. Naturally, their works are dearer, especially with the cost of mounting scrolls or screens, or firing. A danger is that some were signed later. This should remind you to check if an object is aesthetically pleasing. If it is not, then no signature, however famous, should beguile you into buying. If things do not logically fit together, that is also a warning signal. A recent auction I attended offered suits of armor. Close inspection revealed, however, that the shin covers and breastplate did not match, nor did the helmet! Naturally, the final price was lower than the seller had hoped for.
Condition
The condition of an object is vital if important money is to change hands. Chipped or cracked porcelain should be avoided unless the piece completes a set or fattens a collection. Prints which have been cut down, torn, or heavily restored should hoist a signal. No self-respecting Japanese will buy them. Most were adamant about this long before quality control became a business buzzword. Westerners are more forgiving of faults, so be aware that you need strong reasons to overcome this basic advice, especially if you may want to sell it again or your spouse decides to split.
Before buying an item, run your fingers over it, look carefully at the back, check for faint cracks or other flaws. It is acceptable to use a magnifying glass to look closely. It is all right, I believe, to buy flawed things which you like enough if you know they are flawed. Most older furniture has scratches or bumps, for example, but to me that is acceptable. In my half century or so, I have collected the odd flaw and a suspicious bulge around my middle, yet I retain the hope that people will still like me, perhaps for reasons connected with living, like laughter, knowledge, or experience!
Sometimes damage increases value. Helmets or armor with evidence of being shot at may raise the value. I have seen auctioneers count the dents in a helmet, say there were five, and suggest the price should therefore be $200 higher!
Fig. 24 Left to right: Flat brown porcelain hot water bottle (yutampo), ripple effect, 1930s?; bomb-shaped white porcelain hot water bottle, 1920s?; porcelain folding summer pillow (makura) (sweat falls into gaps), patent and auspicious marks, 1930s? Author's Collection.
Trustworthy Confidant
If serious about collecting, find a good advisor. Most great collections resulted from teaming up with specialist scholars/dealers. In Tokyo, New York, London, etc., serious dealers speak your language and can help you learn, though they specialize elsewhere. But do not presume on their time. They need to make a living. They will try much harder if you find something in their store which you like enough to buy!
In many fields, the major players are Japanese, so language may be a problem. If a friend could interpret for you, consider asking his or her help: they may be charmed you are trying to learn about their culture. Dealers are used to non-Japanese speakers and communicate with odd words, body language and signs, drawing or writing-enough for simple requests, but not scholarship. Learn technical words.
If adventurous and you find an under-grazed field of antiques (porcelain toilets, cake molds, or carpentry tools?), get to know each tussock and molehill, then ask dealers who might know more about "your" collectible: the original makers or those in the trade today. Their guild may have files on old products or steer you to other resources.
Caring for Antiques
After experiencing the Kobe earthquake, I urge people in Japan and California to keep breakables in wooden boxes when not displayed: lower is better than higher. Cabinets firmly attached to walls with sliding doors are fine. (Our magnetized doors opened but sliding doors did not.) Rich Japanese kept their valuables in protective boxes for decades in storehouses (kura). Separate from the house and with thick earthen walls to protect against fire, they were opened at New Year to display special dishes or scrolls and then sealed for another twelve months.
Precautions in Collecting
Space, time, and pocket affect collecting. Furniture requires space so remember "less is more." There is an optimum size to fit the wall or corner of a room and not fill a house-unless you are me! Collecting takes time, energy, and luck. If we are not there by a certain time, the dealer may be closed. We may be just too tired to walk the extra mile, and anyway the dealer may have just sold what we badly wanted.
A common problem with serious collecting is money. If single, arguing with yourself is easy. In families, money squabbles can be wearing, so avoid disagreement. If both partners like collecting, it is fine. If not, it is safer to limit spending. If you like similar things, a marriage can be strengthened, but you must talk about what you are doing, and keep on the same wavelength. A successful chase brings couples closer. With cheap items, the next pay check solves all. Other areas need deeper pockets.
A Kobe man collected screens of the Iberians in Japan in 1550-1600. These rare things were always dear but he was determined to build his collection which became Kobe City Museum's centerpiece. He spent all his and his friends' money to build the collection. His poor wife had no money for everyday necessities, the house was sold, and the family evicted. It was the best screen collection ever accumulated but at tremendous human cost.
Reasons for Collecting
Collections may be made for ideological reasons and provide a cultural focus, as with a Kyoto collection of Korean art. The curator saw how little the locals respect the Koreans living in Japan, which in turn gives Koreans a poor self-opinion. He built attractive premises and stocked it with art showcasing Korean civilization. A Korean nationalist persuaded an old Kobe-ite who owned superlative Korean pieces to return them to his country, by appealing to the old man's sympathy.
There is a strong connection between national ego and its public collections. To mark the fiftieth anniversary of the Japanese ouster, South Korea's President, at a cost of $100 million, ordered the National Museum destroyed: the Japanese had built it with window shapes strongly suggesting the name "Nihon." It had reminded Koreans too long of the hated 35-year-long Japanese colonization.
In the same vein, Japan has many national museums and theaters to store its soul and also an elaborate system of national or cultural treasures and important cultural assets. Since 1950, the Cultural Affairs Agency has designated artists and artisans "intangible cultural assets" and "living treasures" for artistic excellence or for carrying on an ancient handicraft.
The need to recall an extinct form of culture may also motivate collecting. Many Kobe people have a few Sanda-yaki pieces. This Hyogo kiln died a century ago but many Japanese have a fondness for local products so treasure its brown and cream-colored pots (though they are flawed).
Mr Koike of Sasebo, Nagasaki Prefecture, a great admirer of Hirado porcelain, gathered 1,500 very fine pieces. Made at nearby Mikawachi, this porcelain had uniquely varied shapes and sculptural features. However, no famous museum has an outstanding Hirado collection, so it is under-known. Mr Koike planned to set up a museum with Sasebo City but sold part of his collection to Mikawachi which hosted the 1996 Honō-Haku international pottery festival and wanted a focus during the fair. Tourism is a common reason for new museums!
Endowing a museum takes a king's ransom. Owners often sell their collection cheaply to an existing museum or donate it as a named collection. You might think museums would jump at a donation and they may, if it includes things they wanted anyway. In fact, donations are often refused, as the items may be outside the museum's scope, or the museum may not have the space or budget. This seems Irish, but if a museum operates at a loss already and would have to devote resources to accept the new acquisition, like space and staff, then it makes sense to refuse.
Pleasures of Collecting
Gardening provides mental stimulation and a link with our farming past. Sowing, hoeing, weeding, and watching seedlings grow enchant-like children or pets. Weather and bugs cause setbacks, while forgetting to water or a week away may kill treasured plants. Collecting has similar rewards but no worrying diseases, while travel may widen a collection, unlike neglecting a garden. Instead of careful attention to the weather, fertilizer, or fumigant, collectors should be dogs-sniff along roads for the scent of your quarry, and chew at books on your chosen field! Buy a few decorative things or others for kitchen use to see what appeals. Only if you are intrigued, should you start on the full adventure!
The pleasures of collecting are bound up with creation, like a gardener. Normally, we non-artists rarely feel the thrill of creation. But putting different works side by side creates links between them not seen before. Perhaps one attractive doll and then another share some characteristic you saw elsewhere. When you put all three together, you may see another link- you are creating a new order. You may also create new knowledge. If some special dolls usually bear no mark, but while rummaging through a store, you find one in an original box which has kanji on it, which the curio seller identifies as being, for example, "Tanaka of Osaka," you may have stumbled on knowledge which is important for telling a future collector and scholar about the creators of these dolls. Do not throw the box away: you are a scholar now!
Decorating your house creatively appeals-a new corner, wall display, or piece of furniture. We enjoy visitors looking at our buys-a talking point, a point of departure for a dinner party. As in walking a dog, you soon find antique-friends. Decorating creates a world, even if just a bedroom corner. If you keep a few dolls or saké cups from each city you visit by the dressing table, that spot serves as a log of your time in Japan, especially if you record the date and who you were with.
Some people get a thrill from showing how many examples of an item they find. If a friend has more, then still feel proud and perhaps find more, but only if you can use more, or want a full collection. Remember Buckminster Fuller's dictum that all things have an optimal length or breadth: "more may be less." Perhaps it is preferable to cull and buy better pieces to outdo your friend.
The spirit of the hunt can entice. There is nothing more satisfying than sorting through piles in secondhand stores for the print you wanted! As hunter, you survey your collection and your prey's terrain, adding un je ne sais quoi to your life. Perhaps you are in marketing and need to hit sales targets. But at the office you rely on a whole team, while the product itself may have little appeal for you personally. It can be hard to love toothpaste or floppy disks!
An Antidote to the Rat Race
If interested, you buy without sales literature or ads in the antique world-and no spiel. A shrine seller may pipe an advanced message: "Gaijin-san. Good plates, very cheap!" That smiling call is better than TV ads or a PR talk. If you go back, (s)he and the others will remember you-unlike your TV. As individualists, dealers are not prepackaged but quirky. They do not commute daily in suits like robots but are often kind. When phones finally started working after the 1995 quake, I got calls from dealers everywhere. Many in far-off Kantō or Kyūshū only knew me as a man coming once a year or so to look, yet they tried for weeks to get in touch with me, out of sympathy. I felt blessed.
A teacher for decades, I love explaining. Bringing varied things together, imposing some order, and explaining them is more satisfying than socially rewarding activities like balancing the books or preparing for class. In some deeper sense, it is more "me."
Some collectors love pictures by famous painters or works once owned by stars, reveling in the prestige- certainly one attraction. Individualists prefer things which are unknown, but might become popular-palpable adventure! Finally, it is fun to have round you things of value at least in the longer term, not in a deposit box. Scrooge missed something: counting gold coins is for mugs. Having attractive, things round you is more fun, more natural than living among landlord- or firm -chosen goods. Even a bird chooses the materials she builds her nest with-"That feather looks nice and I think I'll try some of this down and that moss looks nice." Why not take flight like her?
Fig. 25 Porcelain saké barrel (sakagura) with Shōchikubai trade mark (above is Seishu no seiga- "hero among refined saké ") and bung hole at bottom, 1920s? Author's Collection.
