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Could This Be the Poor Man’s Inrō?

A friend of mine who always comes with a present handed me this flask gourd saying “I think you can appreciate this.” “I sure can,” I said and thanked him. It obviously belongs to the larger category of objects known as sagemono (提物), items one wants to have at hand but preferably with one’s hands free, and thus suspended from the sash, the obi. As it is pretty small, measuring not even eleven centimetres from top to bottom, it can hardly have served as a water bottle of some kind. Maybe something stronger? Like sake or shochu? That too would seem quite unlikely. 

What we cannot fail to notice is that the bottom part of the gourd is somewhat discoloured, possibly as a result of what it used to contain. It was obviously carried hanging from one’s obi using a wooden netsuke carved in the shape of a peanut. A search on the internet learns that peanut cultivation started in Japan from 1875, notably in Kanagawa and Chiba Prefectures, but this set of a flask gourd and a peanut netsuke would date from much earlier. Indeed, a search for the Japanese word for peanuts, rakkasei (落花生), tells us that these were first introduced into Japan in 1706, often going by the name of Nankinmame (南京豆) or ‘Nanking nuts.’ The Dutch East India Company? 

The peanut-shaped netsuke is fastened to the gourd by a silken cord that is led through a hole in the wooden plug of the flask gourd, and then wound around the narrow middle of the gourd. From the netsuke to the wooden plug, the cord measures almost eleven centimetres, absolutely no problem for the standard width of the 82 millimetres wide obi – if I may believe the one obihisami netsuke I have at hand. Still, all of this didn’t really help me getting a better understanding of the original function of the gourd. 

Until just two weeks ago, with some guests joining us for dinner who suggested that this could well be a container for some kind of medicine, something like a kusuri-ire if that could be what such a thing was called. As for its size, this would certainly be possible, and one can also well imagine that someone who is aware of his possible problems of health would like to always have some cure at hand. Trying to get some of the remaining contents out just yielded a very small bit of dust, probably not enough to find out more, or … maybe?

Anyway, it is very well imaginable that not anybody who had to be prepared to have to take his medicine regularly would also be able to afford some nice medicine cases of the inrō type, often lacquered, and generally offering space for three or four different kinds of medicine. But during much of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, these were also a most direct luxury item well-suited to show off. It is not for nothing that some writer in the early nineteenth century remarks that ‘nowadays, almost anybody carries an inrō, often not containing any medicine at all.’ 

The internet also tells – but never believe the internet is what I repeatedly told my students – that the ‘amino acid L-arginine in peanuts is helpful for improving sexual function in men.’ Is that maybe some allusion that the flask gourd is suggesting when you turn it 90 degrees to the right?

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Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa – Hokusai and Aizurie Part V
🇯🇵「神奈川沖浪裏」製作年考：
北斎と藍擦絵（其の五）

Summarizing the conclusions reached in the four preceding parts, we can give a date of 1830 or Tenpō 1 (天保元年) to the so far identified subjects of Nihonbashi (日本橋), Ōji (王子), Sumidagawa (隅田川), Fukagawa (深川), Shibaura (芝浦), Ōhashi (大橋), Mimeguri (三園), Ueno no hana (上野花), and Yanaka (谷中), all picture envelopes, efūto (繪封筒), measuring 191 x 51 mm., signed Hokusai changing his name to Iitsu (Hokusai aratame Iitsu 北斎改為一), forming part of the series A Hundred Views in the Eastern Capital (Tōto hyakkei 東都百景), published as prints in tones of blue, aizurie, by an unidentified publisher using a seal reading ‘to’ (ト) within a circle. 

Cormorant Fisherman at Kajikazawa in Kai Province, from the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji, 1831
Courtesy Mann Collection

Dating from the same year 1830 are the prints titled Suruga Hill in the Eastern Capital (Tōto Surugadai 東都駿河台), Under the Mannen Bridge in Fukagawa (Fukagawa Mannenbashi no shita 深川万年橋下), The Oval Pine at Aoyama (Aoyama Enza no matsu 青山圓座松), Senjū in Musashi Province (Bushū Senjū 武州千住), In the Hollow of a Wave off the Coast of Kanagawa, popularly known as ‘The Great Wave’ (Kanagawa oki namiura 神奈川沖浪裏), A Shower below the Summit (Sanka hakuu 山下白雨), South Wind at Clear Dawn (Gaifū kaisei 凱風快晴), The ‘Fuji-Viewing’ Plains in Owari Province (Bishū Fujimigahara 尾州富士見原), and The Inume Mountain Pass in Kai Province (Kōshū Inumetōge 甲州犬目峠), all full colour horizontal prints in the ōban format (265 x 390 mm.), signed Hokusai changing his name to Iitsu (Hokusai aratame Iitsu 北斎改為一), forming part of the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei 富嶽三十六景), published by Nishimuraya Yohachi.

Dating from 1831 or Tenpō 2 (天保二年) are ten prints depicting A man washing potatoes in a tub; Mōsō finding a fresh bamboo shoot in the snow; Boats passing under rocky cliffs with a moon in the sky; A Mountain landscape with a bridge across a waterfall; Two fish: a halfbeak and a bream, and a crayfish; Two fish: a sole and a kasago, and two ark shell; Three sparrows and morning glory; A Sparrow trying to catch a fly; Plovers flying over waves, and A Finch on a Hibiscus, all in the koban format (c.227 x 168 mm.) and printed in shades of blue, aizurie, signed the Former Hokusai (saki no Hokusai 前北斎), with various seals among which one that gives Hokusai’s age as 72 years, corresponding to 1831, and published by Moriya Jihei.

Also dating from 1831 are prints of A pilgrim standing on the back of another one and writing on a pillar; Two men working on the covering of a roof with roof tiles; Ebisu catching fish from a boat; A Woman rope-walking and juggling balls; Two men making a large wooden tub; Acrobat performance; A Monk sweeping maple leaves; A Man seated by a tsuitate and chanting from a book; Bushishi on a scroll; A Sparrow by a chestnut; A Woman washing a length of cloth in a stream; A shōjō eating rice cakes and not drinking; Farmers doing the sparrow-dance; and A Shishi lion in a waterfall, all in the narrow upright tanzaku format (c.350 x 67 mm.) and printed in full colour, the first two signed the Former Hokusai (saki no Hokusai 前北斎), the others signed Iitsu, the former Hokusai (saki no Hokusai Iitsu 前北斎為一), published by Moriya Jihei. As these were printed three at a time from an aiban block, there remains at least one more design to be identified.

Dating from the same year 1831 are three prints depicting A tenaga and an ashinaga; A Deer and the full moon; and A Waterfall, in the narrow upright tanzaku format (c.350 x 67 mm.) and printed in shades of blue, aizurie, signed Iitsu, the former Hokusai (saki no Hokusai Iitsu ), published by Moriya Jihei. We cannot know whether these represent a different group or whether they are just an incidental exception within the group of full-colour tanzaku prints mentioned above. 

Still dating from 1831 are ten prints titled The Honganji Temple at Asakusa in the Eastern Capital (Tōto Asakusa Honganji 東都浅草本願寺), Tsukudajima Island in Musashi Province (Buyō Tsukudajima 武揚佃島), Ushibori in Hitachi Province (Jōshū Ushibori 常州牛堀), The Coast at Shichirigahama in Sagami Province (Sōshū Shichirigahama 相洲七里浜), Left of (or: In the Outskirts of) Umezawa in Sagami Province (Sōshū Umezawa no hidari [or: zai] 相洲梅澤左 [or: 在]), Mishimagoe in Kai Province (Kōshū Mishimagoe 甲州三島越), Ejiri in Suruga Province (Sunshū Ejiri 駿州江尻), In the Tōtōmi Mountains (Tōtōmi sanchū 遠江山中), Lake Suwa in Shinano Province (Shinshū Suwako 信州諏訪湖), and Kajikazawa in Kai Province (Kōshū Kajikazawa 甲州石班澤), all horizontal prints in the ōban format (265 x 390 mm.) and printed in shades of blue, aizurie, signed Iitsu, the former Hokusai (saki no Hokusai Iitsu 前北斎為一), forming part of the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei 富嶽三十六景), published by Nishimuraya Yohachi. These are the prints that the publisher Nishimuraya Yohachi announced in I/1831 at the end of the Tanehiko novel. The remaining twenty-six designs in the Fuji series were probably published subsequently, from 1832. Anyway, we now know that the ‘Great Wave’ dates from the year 1830, and that is what we wanted to find out to begin with.

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Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa – Hokusai and Aizurie Part IV
🇯🇵「神奈川沖浪裏」製作年考：
北斎と藍擦絵（其の四）

In the foregoing parts we have been investigating four series or groups of prints, two of them comprised of aizurie prints exclusively and two other groups with only a part printed as aizurie. In these four groups, we found three different phrasings of Hokusai’s signature, as follows: Hokusai aratame Iitsu (Hokusai changing his name to Iitsu 北斎改為一) on ten prints of the series of Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji and on all of the so far identified nine envelopes from the series titled A Hundred Views of the Eastern Capital. Then there is the signature Saki no Hokusai (the former Hokusai 前の北斎) on all of the prints in blue from an untitled series in the koban format, and on two (of three?) prints from the untitled series in the tanzakuban format. And lastly the signature Saki no Hokusai Iitsu (Iitsu, the former Hokusai 前の北斎為一) to be found on ten aizurie and twenty-six full colour prints of the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji series, as well as on the three aizurie and on another twelve full colour prints in the group of tanzaku prints.

A View of Tsukudajima Island from the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji, 1831
Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

If we then try to bring some order in these findings, we must agree that a signature stating that ‘Hokusai is changing his name to Iitsu’ (Hokusai aratame Iitsu), obviously predates signatures such as ‘the former Hokusai’ (saki no Hokusai) and ‘Iitsu, the former Hokusai’ (saki no Hokusai Iitsu). We are then fortunate to have a date for the use of the signature of the ‘former Hokusai’ on one of the ten koban aizurie prints, in the form of a seal reading ‘old man of 72 years’ (nanajūni-ō), Hokusai’s age corresponding to the year 1831. It is then tempting to also date the two tanzaku prints with the same signature to the same year 1831.

As for works bearing the signature ‘Iitsu, the former Hokusai,’ we have at least the indication that the ten aizurie prints in the Fuji series were being announced as ‘single sheet prints in blues, each featuring one view and to be issued one after the other’ in the I/1831 announcement issued by the publisher Nishimuraya Yohachi. We may thus safely assume that at least the ten aizurie prints in that series can be dated to 1831. And the seal on one of the aizurie prints indicating Hokusai’s age to be 72 years, mentioned above, just confirms that aizurie printing was being practiced in 1831. This date can thus also safely be given to the three aizurie tanzaku prints signed ‘Iitsu, the former Hokusai’ as well as to the remaining twelve full colour prints in that group which were most likely published in the same year. As for the Fuji series, this was, as a much larger enterprise and still something of an experiment at the time when there was no tradition of larger series of landscape prints yet, probably issued over a period of several years.

What then remains is the series of luxury envelopes issued as aizurie and signed ‘Hokusai changing his name to Iitsu,’ and the ten prints in the Fuji series with the same signature. For the moment, we can conclude that these must date from ‘before 1831.’ Yet, we may assume that Nishimuraya waited to announce that the prints in the Fuji series would be printed in tones of blue until he was sufficiently confident that the first group of ten prints sold well. At least well enough to take the risk of issuing the remainder of the series in the newly available but still costly non-fugitive blue pigment, publishing prints was after all a completely commercial enterprise. Most likely, I would say, this means that a first group of Fuji prints had been issued some time in 1830 and needed already to be reprinted several times as demand proved to be lasting.

Just to corroborate or contradict these findings, let us have a look at Hokusai’s signatures around this period: He signed a painting of a seller of New Year’s charms (British Museum Collection) ‘Hokusai Iitsu’ in I/1827; he signed the novel Shinpen Suikogaden Part 2a Hokusai Taito in I/1829 and in the same month, his Chūgi Suikoden ehon was signed Katsushika saki no Hokusai Iitsu – and we must remember that Hokusai often used different signatures for different audiences, and these are a painting, a popular novel, and a picture book respectively. In III/1830, he signed a surimono print of two women gathering salt water by the seaside ‘Hokusai aratame Iitsu,’ or ‘Hokusai changing his name to Iitsu.’

I couldn’t find, so far, any other examples of the signature ‘the former Hokusai,’ but we do see the signature ‘Iitsu, the former Hokusai’ from 1831: it is used in two announcements in I/1831, the one concerning the sequel of the Fuji series of prints, the other one for a novel in eight volumes written by Ryūtei Tanehiko (not yet identified), and again in III/1831 in the 1-volume poetry collection Onna ichidai eigashū, as well as later also, in 1832, 1833 and so on. I am real glad we are here now, and I promise to make a clean and clear chronology soon, to appear in the next part of this series of notes that was concerned with the date of the Great Wave to begin with.

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Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa – Hokusai and Aizurie Part III
🇯🇵「神奈川沖浪裏」製作年考：
北斎と藍擦絵（其の三）

As far as I know, there are only three more examples of aizuri prints by Hokusai that need to be considered, and then we can try and see whether we can reach a conclusion on our original question: What is the date of the so-called Great Wave? This time we will focus on a group of some seventeen or more prints in the narrow upright tanzaku format, measuring 350 x 68 mm. Like the group of koban prints discussed earlier, in Part II, they were published by Moriya Jihei. With two exceptions, they are signed Saki no Hokusai Iitsu hitsu (two are signed Saki no Hokusai ga), and with three exceptions they are all normal full colour prints, nishikie, three being printed in tones of blue only, the aizurie that we are specifically interested in. Moreover, except five, they can all be found in the collection of the Berlin Museum of East Asian Art, being listed in Steffi Schmidt’s 1971 catalogue as nos. 600-610.

Nagata lists thirteen of them on pp. 215f. of his Hokusai nenpu and incorporated ten in his 2005 Hokusai exhibition in the Tokyo National Museum, as follows: 1 – A tenaga and an ashinaga – aizurie (Achenbach Foundation); 2 – Ebisu catching fish from a boat (Berlin 608; TNM exhibition 271); 3 – A pilgrim standing on the back of another one and writing on a pillar, signed Saki no Hokusai (Berlin 609; TNM 269; British Museum; Pushkin); 4 – Woman rope-walking and juggling balls (Berlin 606; TNM 264); 5 – Two men making a large wooden tub (Berlin 607; TNM 270); 6 – Two men working on the covering of a roof with rooftiles, signed Saki no Hokusai (Berlin 610; TNM 263); 7 – Deer and full moon – aizurie (Berlin 601; TNM 272); 8 – Acrobat performance (Berlin 605; TNM 268); 9 – Monk sweeping maple leaves (Berlin 602; TNM 265; British Museum); 10 – Man seated by a tsuitate and chanting from a book (Berlin 604; TNM 267; Hokusai updated, 2019, 376 Nagata Collection); 11 – Bushishi on a scroll (Berlin 603; TNM 266); 12 – Sparrow by chestnut (Berlin); 13 – Woman washing a length of cloth in a stream (British Museum).

Shishi in a waterfall

Not listed in Nagata 1985 are four more, such as 14 – Waterfall – aizurie (Berlin 600); 15 – A shōjō eating rice cakes and not drinking (Hokusai updated, 2019, 376 Nagata Collection); 16 – Farmers doing the sparrow-dance (Hokusai updated, 2019, 377 Nagata Collection); and 17 – Shishi in a waterfall (PC). But totalling seventeen, while they were no doubt printed three from an aiban block, means that there must at least be one more still to surface. But we have at least three aizurie: the tenaga and ashinaga (no. 1), the deer and the full autumn moon (no. 7), and the waterfall (no. 14), all of these signed Saki no Hokusai Iitsu.

Summarizing all the aizurie prints we so far could identify, we are considering ten prints from the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji series, all signed Saki no Hokusai Iitsu and published by Nishimuraya Yohachi; ten koban prints of various subjects from an untitled group, all signed Saki no Hokusai and published by Moriya Jihei; nine envelopes from a series titled One Hundred Views of the Eastern Capital, Tōto hyakkei, signed Hokusai aratame Iitsu and issued by an unidentified publisher; and three prints in the tanzaku format from an untitled group of so far seventeen identified prints, signed Saki no Hokusai Iitsu, and published by Moriya Jihei.

With three different signatures on four groups of prints, I really hope to find the time one of these days to see whether we can come up with a plausible dating for the Great Wave. (And honestly, I only write all of this to just find answers to questions, just checking once again in view of what I know today, but I don’t have the answer to begin with.)

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Kuniyoshi Helping Us Date Hokusai’s 100 Views of Fuji
🇯🇵北斎『富嶽百景』製作年考：
國芳

In the early 1840s, Kuniyoshi took up the theme of landscape prints again, after some more than five years silence on this front. Alas, for reasons unknown, the project was stopped after only five designs had come out. Was it the poor reaction of the print buying public, or was it beyond the capacity of the publisher Murataya Jirōbei, or was it the poets involved in some of the prints? Anyway, we are left with only five of thirty-six scheduled/promised designs in the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji Seen from the Eastern Capital (Tōto Fujimi sanjūrokkei).

Kuniyoshi: Mount Fuji with a Clear Sky from the Open Sea at Tsukudajima Island

For Kuniyoshi, the series seems to have been a tribute to Hokusai whom he greatly admired. Not only does the ‘Thirty-six’ in the series title evoke Hokusai’s famous Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei) of the early 1830s, also the writing of the name of the mountain with characters literally reading ‘Not two,’  meaning  ’Second to none,’ calls into mind the characters used in the titles of the plates in Hokusai’s Hundred Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku hyakkei) albums.

As for the dating of the Kuniyoshi series, Robinson 1961 has c.1843; Nagoya 1996 has c.1844; Ota 2011 has c.1844; Iwakiri 2013 has c.1843; Menegazzo 2017 has c.1843. I myself had dated the series to ‘early 1840s,’ actually rather thinking of a date around 1842/43. And that was before I realised that the plate of the fisherman pulling up his large net was to be found in volume three of the Hundred Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku hyakkei) album, and not in volumes one or two. The fisherman in Hokusai’s plate titled Mount Fuji Behind the Net (Amiura no Fuji) is almost literally copied by Kuniyoshi in his plate Mount Fuji with a Clear Sky from the Open Sea at Tsukudajima Island (Tsukuda oki kaisei no Fuji) – actually writing characters reading ‘seiten’ and indicating that they should be read ‘kaisei’, as in the Fuji in South Wind and Clear Sky (Gaifū kaisei) plate in Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views.

Hokusai: Mount Fuji Behind the Net, from Fugaku hyakkei vol. 3

The date of publication for the two first volumes of the Hundred Views of Mount Fuji is no problem, these are clearly indicated at the end as 1834 and 1835. But the third volume was issued without any such a date, moreover by a different publisher than the two earlier volumes. It is now commonly accepted that the designs were finished by Hokusai and also the blocks were cut by Egawa Sentarō, or at least under his supervision, as early as 1835 for publication in 1836. This we may conclude from a letter of Hokusai to the publishers Kobayashi Shinbei and two others, asking them to contract Egawa for some future project, as his work on the ’three volumes of the Hundred Views surpassed that of many others’ (see Iijima Kyoshin, Katsushika Hokusaiden, Vol. 1, pp. 54f).

But then the long-established firm of the publisher Nishimuraya Yohachi went bankrupt and Nishimuraya was obliged to sell the blocks of all three volumes, which were then acquired by Eirakuya Tōshirō of Nagoya. Eirakuya then waited until the worst of the Tenpō crisis was over – which was probably also the reason why Nishimuraya went bankrupt – and then he brought out his edition of the three volumes of the Hundred Views.

As there is a reference to Hokusai as ‘the old man of over ninety’ in the preface to volume three, Suzuki 1986 (p. 205) believed that this volume was published around 1849, the year Hokusai died, aged 90. Nagata 1985 (p. 161) records volume three as undated, but positions it in between publications of 1840/II and 1841/Autumn (much earlier, in an article in Ukiyoe Art, no. 47 [1975] Nagata still held the date of publication to be ‘c.1849’). Forrer 1985 (p. 173) was the first to suggest a date around 1842, on the basis of the advertisements that Eirakuya included in his first edition of Hokusai’s Hundred Views of Mount Fuji. But I must say that I never bothered to check who was following me except from Nagata sensei. Anyway, the date of c.1842 would be perfectly in agreement with the various datings of Kuniyoshi’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji seen from the Eastern Capital where he acknowledges to have seen all three of the Hokusai Hundred Views albums. 

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Kansei 9 Wasn’t 1797 All of the Time – Not for Kuniyoshi at Least

We are now sufficiently conditioned to automatically add one year whenever we find in older literature that Kunisada died in 1864. Indeed, he died on the 15th day of the Twelfth month of Genji 1 (1864), which corresponds with January 12th 1865 in our Gregorian calendar. Consequently, his dates are 1786-1865. We probably also know by now that Katsukawa Shunshō died in 1793, on January 19th, the date corresponding with the 8th day of the Twelfth month of Kansei 4 (1792) in the Japanese lunar calendar.

When I was recently working on my forthcoming monograph on Kuniyoshi, and worked out what would be the equivalent of the 15th day of the 11th Month of Kansei 9 (1797), the date of his birth, the outcome was January 1st, 1798. As I then checked how many times I myself had simply not gone to the trouble to check this in past publications, I was shocked, especially as I had already in 1988 worked out the correct date, but apparently forgot since.

However, in counting Kuniyoshi’s age, we will have to stick to the circumstance that he was born in Kansei 9 (1797) and then considered to be one year old, turning 2 just a month and a half later at the New Year of Kansei 10 (1798). Consequently, the drawing of Shōki that he would make ‘at the age of twelve’ was made in 1808, whereas we would only consider him twelve in the year 1809.

Kuniyoshi: Shoki, c.1847, not the picture he drew age 12

Then I decided to make a note in the margin of my copy of Roberts’ Dictionary of Japanese Artists so I will never make this mistake again, especially when I am again too lazy to check this properly, and I can advise everybody to do the same. And now that you start doing this, you may also want to add the correct dates for:

Kita Busei 喜多武清 (1776-1857) as he died on 1856-XII-20, or our January 15th, 1857; Akatsuki Kanenari 暁鐘成 (1793-1861) as he died on 1860-XII-19, or our January 29th, 1861; Ichikawa Kansai 市川甘齋 (died 1836), that is 1835-XII, our 1836-I or II; Torii Kiyomine 鳥居清峯, later Kiyomitsu II 二代鳥居清満 (1788-1869) as he died 1868-XI-21, or our January 3rd, 1869; Torii Kiyomitsu III 三代鳥居清満 (1833-1892) as he was born 1832-XII-14, or our February 3rd, 1833; Utagawa Kunisada 歌川國貞, see above; Utagawa Kuniteru II 二代歌川國輝, later Kunitsuna II 二代歌川國綱 (1830-1875) as he died 1874-XII-15, or January 16th, 1875; Utagawa Kuniyoshi 歌川國芳, see above; Izumi Morikazu 泉守一 (1766-1816) as he died 1815-XII-5, or January 3rd, 1816; Tsukioka Settei 月岡雪鼎 (1710-1787), as he died 1786-XII-4, or January 22nd, 1787; Yanagawa Shigenobu 柳川重信 (1787-!833) as he died 1832-XI intercalary month-28, or our January 18th, 1833;  Katsukawa Shunshō 勝川春章 (1726-1793) as he died 1792-XII-8, or January 19th, 1793; Kō Sūgetsu 高崇月 (1755-1831) as he died 1830-XI-20, or January 3rd, 1831; Kō Sūkei 高崇卿 (1760s-1844) as he died 1843-XII-21, or February 9th, 1844, at the age of 80+ — until here for the moment.

This discrepancy between the lunar calendar of Japan and our Gregorian calendar also explains why there are so many memorial prints, shinie, for the two kabuki actors Bandō Mitsugorō III 三世坂東三津五郎 (1775-1831) and Segawa Kikunojō V 五世瀬川菊之丞 (1802-1832) together. In the case of Mitsugorō we are talking of 1831-XII-27, actually January 29th, 1832, and Kikunojō died 1832-I-7, or February 8th, 1832, indeed, only some ten days later.

But then, we must realise that there are so many artists where we have no information on which day they died. We can only guess that some eight percent of all of them died somewhere in the eleventh or twelfth months, which would make it to the next year in our calendar. And that is just one reason why it is much more interesting to reconstruct exact dates for their periods of activity. 

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Siebold’s Netsuke and the Otoman Zodiac Set

 Many years ago I gave a talk about the earliest Dutch collections of netsuke, as part of the comprehensive collection of Bunsei-Period Japanese artefacts held at the National Museum of Ethnology, Leiden. At that time, I had not really asked myself the question how and where Blomhoff (1779-1853, Opperhoofd at Deshima 1817-23), Fisscher (1800-1848, various positions at Deshima 1820-29) and Siebold (1796-1866, physician at Deshima 1823-29) made their collections of netsuke in the 1820s.

Recently, however, I came to realise that Blomhoff (10 netsuke) and Fisscher (40 netsuke) most likely assembled their groups of netsuke during the court journey of 1822, adding a few items made of porcelain that could easily be procured from shops at Nagasaki. As for Siebold, his group of 49 netsuke – omitting here a few items that came with tobacco pouches or inro – was most likely brought together at some curio shop, maybe in Nagasaki, maybe in Osaka, and offered to him as an ensemble. In a notebook used to keep track of all his acquisitions, Siebold records “A box of artworks in ivory, antler and various animal teeth, wood and porcelain” (Ein Kistchen mit Kunstarbeiten von Elfenbein, Horn und verschiedenen Thierzahne, Holz und Porzelein).

For Siebold, the interest was most likely as a group of objects that would go into the Sections IV-A and IV-B in the systematic catalogue of his ethnographic collection, Products from the Animal World, sub a: For arts and crafts, and Products from the World of Plants. Indeed, they are nine ivory netsuke, three made of deer antler, two in boar’s tusk, one in pot whale, nineteen in wood, and seven in porcelain.

A most interesting aspect of these three collections is the considerable group of unused netsuke, bought as new items in the shops, so we can finally see what a netsuke without its nice ‘patina’ looks like. At the same time, these can also help us get some idea how much use and handling these would need to get such a nice ‘patina.’ This goes for at least 30 netsuke in the case of Fisscher and for 36 in Siebold’s collection of netsuke. As for the items in the Siebold collection that were actually used, these are seven of the nine netsuke in ivory, three of these with signatures (an ox signed by Shūzan, a dog with a boar’s leg by Mitsu, and a Chōki by Shū/Hide), two out of three in stag antler, and four out of nineteen in wood — none of the porcelain ones.

Shoki the Demon Queller, one of Siebold’s ivory netsuke

Then there is also another group of ivory carvings – not netsuke – representing the complete set of twelve animals of the zodiac, carved in ivory by Otomitsu or Otoman.* This was apparently a special commission from Siebold, probably made just before he was placed under house arrest at Deshima as a consequence of the Siebold Incident when he was found in the possession of some maps of the northern outskirts of Japan after the storm of September 17/18th, 1828.

Otomitsu: ivory carving representing Rat on Daikoku’s bag
Otomitsu signature and date of X/1828 on the ivory carving of a Rat, as the first of the Twelve Animals of the Zodiac

It seems that Otomitsu started work on this set in December 1828 (Bunsei 11, Tenth Month, in the Japanese calendar), at least that is the dating on the figure of the Rat, the most likely subject to start with, being the first of the Twelve Zodiacal Animals. Almost a year later, the set was completed and on October 30th, 1829, Siebold got the invoice  for “Carvings by an artist from Chikuzen (present-day Fukuoka) representing the Zodiac – Koban 32,5” (Schneidewerken van een kunstenaar uit Tsikuzen verbeeldende den dierenkring – Kobang 32,5).

For Otomitsu, one koban would buy him his daily portion of rice for one year,  or alternatively 43 litres of sake, or 750 pieces of sushi, so probably quite a decent price for him and his family and assistants to live on during the time involved in making this set – he would also have to buy the necessary ivory. As for Siebold, the ‘32,5 Kobang’ would be the equivalent of DFl 390, slightly more than half a month’s salary for Siebold. As for the earlier mentioned ‘box of artworks,’ the price he paid was 250 Kobang, or something like DFl 3.000,00 at the time, not really a good buy, I would say.

*At present, the museum has only six of this set left, the other half was stolen, so you know when you see an Otomitsu/Otoman carving of a Tiger, a Dragon, a Goat, a Monkey, a Dog, or a Boar.

Posted on by gakyōrōjin 画狂老人

Hokusai’s Great Wave off Kanagawa – Hokusai and Aizurie Part II
🇯🇵「神奈川沖浪裏」製作年考：
北斎と藍擦絵（其の弐）

As for prints in various tones of blue exclusively, so-called aizurie, a series of probably ten prints issued by the publisher Moriya Jihei is probably the best example. It was issued without any series or print titles, and was comprised of figures, landscapes, and subjects from nature. They are small format koban prints, roughly measuring 227 x 168 mm, as correctly identified in Forrer 1974:127 (however, Steffi Schmidt in her 1971 catalogue [nos 593-99] of the Berlin collection identifies the prints as chūban, giving measurements ranging from 221 to 295 mm height x 164 to 168 width, a quite unlikely variation between prints from the same series, but also the Boston Museum of Fine Arts identifies the prints as chūban in its database, as does Yasuda in his 1971 monograph [p 140], as does Nagata in both his 1985 Nenpu [p 194], and in his 2005 Hokusai exhibition catalogue [cat 343-51]).

Their subjects are A man washing potatoes in a tub; Mōsō finding a fresh bamboo shoot in the snow; Boats passing under rocky cliffs with a moon in the sky; A mountainous landscape with a bridge across a waterfall; Two fish: a halfbeak and a bream, and a crayfish; Two fish: a sole and a kasago, and two ark shell (akagai); Three sparrows and morning glory; A sparrow trying to catch a fly; Plovers flying over waves. That is nine in all, suggesting that there is at least one more design missing, as such small format prints would at least be printed two from an aiban format block. Just found the missing one: A Finch on a hibiscus (MFA 21.10230).*

Indeed, in the 2005 Tokyo National Museum catalogue, the print of three sparrows by a morning glory (350) has been cut so carelessly that it still shows the line where the two prints should have been separated, and even part of the kiwame censorship seal and of the publisher’s mark of Moriya of the other print – so we can know that it was printed together with the design of plovers and waves. As I long ago also possessed myself an uncut sheet from the series, I know that also the designs of two fish and a crayfish and of the man washing potatoes were printed together from the same block.

All of the prints in this series have the signature Saki no Hokusai hitsu (前北斎筆), or “Brush of the Former Hokusai,” combined with various seals. Of these seals, just one is of special interest, reading “Old Man of 72” (Nanajūni-ō), so we can date this series to the year 1831.

A second series of aizurie prints, or rather “printed matter,” is titled A Hundred Views in the Eastern Capital (Tōto hyakkei). As said, they are not exactly prints, but rather printed matter in the format of envelopes to be used for sending notes and brief letters in a nice wrapper, rather than, as was the common practice, just writing the name of the addressee somewhere so the postman could see it. They measure 191 x 51 mm and were published by an unidentified publisher, otherwise known for fans designed by Katsukawa Shunei, Utagawa Kuniyasu, and by Hiroshige.

Cherry Blossoms at Ueno
Yanaka, in between Ueno and Hongo Heights, Private collection, The Netherlands
Nihonbashi from the Art Institute of Chicago Collection
Nihonbashi
Art Institute of Chicago Collection

At present, we know of nine surviving examples of these envelopes, picturing Nihonbashi, Sumidagawa, Ōhashi, Mimeguri, Ōji, Fukagawa, Shibaura, Yanaka, and Blossoms at Ueno, Ueno no hana. They are signed Hokusai aratame Iitsu ga. Narazaki in his 1944 Hokusai ron (p 374) was probably the first to record the Ōji and Sumida River subjects of this group which he saw in the Miyake Hikojirō collection. Later, Nagata in his 1985 Nenpu would identify the above mentioned nine subjects, all but the Ōji subject in the collection of the National Diet Library. The Nihonbashi envelope is also preserved in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago, the Shibaura envelope is also preserved in the collection of the Library of Congress, Washington, and the Ueno and Yanaka envelopes are also held in Dutch private collections. Surprisingly, these somewhat luxury ephemera – and that is probably why so few have survived – are the earliest examples of Hokusai working in the aizurie technique, signing his works with the signature Hokusai aratame Iitsu ga. Indeed, it is remarkable that a publisher of such ephemera would make use of the new indigo pigment earlier than his colleagues catering to buyers of prints … to be continued.

*I had wanted to include a picture of one of these prints, but searching the online database of the Ostasiatisches Museum Berlin – that owns seven of these prints, the search for ‘Hokusai’ only yields three Hiroshige prints, two different Hokusai prints, and one Hokkei surimono — or am I doing something stupid?

Posted on by Matthi マティ

My Edo Period Bone Folder
🇯🇵私物礼賛

Out of interest in the materials used in netsuke carving, I bought a piece of stag antler many years ago at one of these antique/curio markets that regularly take place in Japanese cities. It is actually probably the smaller of the two beams (unlike European deer, Japanese deer have two) that starts from the pedicle, the larger beam cut off, until its fork where it splits into two, and it measures 29 cm.

It has served me most as something good to have at hand on my desk to keep a book open at some page when I work on my computer. Moreover, it always feels very good in my hand with its very smooth surface. And so, years passed using the piece of antler regularly, without ever wondering why exactly it felt so nice.

When I finally sat down and pondered why, and held the piece of antler in my hands, my thumb quite naturally falling in place with one of those smooth areas, I realised that my grip corresponded with all smooth areas, except one. That was the end tip of the antler that was actually smoothest of all. And only then did it come to my mind: this is simply a very useful tool that is part of the book producing process of the Edo Period, a bone folder, probably what is called a hera in Japanese.

My Japanese bone folder (top) and its European counterpart (bottom) on some folded sheets from a book written by Kyokutei Bakin and illustrated by Utamaro
My Japanese bone folder clearly showing the well-used tip

As the printed sheets of books – printed on one side only – came from the printer’s, they would be handed to a folders’ studio where a number of (mostly) women would make a living folding the printed sheets in half, text side out. These folded sheets would then be handed to the binders’ studio where they would be bound up to books in the then prevailing pouch binding or fukurotoji style.

From the Nihon shosetsu nenpyō, we know that some forty to sixty new titles of fiction alone came out each year in the 1790s. And from Kyokutei Bakin’s memories, Kinsei mono no hon, we know that these would often be issued in editions of 8,000 to 12,000 copies, sometimes even more when they were expected to be best-selling novels. No doubt, my bone folder has leaved through many more Edo period books than I myself. Maybe I should consider bequeathing it to the Edo-Tokyo Museum when I cannot use it myself to hold my books open anymore?

🇯🇵江戸期鹿角のヘラ

Posted on by gakyōrōjin 画狂老人

Hokusai’s Wave off Kanagawa – Hokusai and Aizurie – Part I
🇯🇵「神奈川沖浪裏」製作年考：
北斎と藍擦絵（其の壱）

Quite surprisingly, we can still find various datings for one of the world’s most iconic images, the Great Wave as it is popularly called, actually titled In the Hollow of the Wave off Kanagawa (Kanagawa oki namiura), one of the prints in Hokusai’s series of Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjūrokkei).

Hokusai Great Wave
Hokusai, Kanagawa oki namiura from Metropolitan Museum of Art Website (dated c.1830-32)

In earlier literature, this series was usually dated to the 1820s (e.g. Goncourt 1896, p. 162: 1823-29; Holmes 1900, p. 23: 1823-29; Perzynski 1904, p. 76: 1823-29; Binyon & Sexton 1923, p.138: 1825-32; Focillon 1925, p.90: 1823-29; Hillier 1955, p. 60: 1823-29). This dating was based on a misinterpretation of an announcement of – among others – Eight Appearances of Mount Fuji (Fugaku hattai) at the end of his model book for combs and pipes, the Imayō kushi kiseru hinagata, indeed published in V/1823. Indeed, the text of this announcement – “Eight aspects of Mt. Fuji. The four seasons, Weather clear and rainy, Wind-snow-mist, Duly following the sublime creations of heaven: All the variations of scenic beauty caught on the artist’s brush-tip” (here cited after Lane 1989, p. 184) – would perfectly suit the Fuji series – and it might well represent the artist’s first ideas for the Fuji series.

However, in 1944, Narazaki Muneshige would in his Hokusai ron (p. 378) be the first to identify a true announcement of the Fuji series of prints, at the back of part 12 of the popular novel Shōhon jitate by Ryūtei Tanehiko, illustrated by Utagawa Kunisada and published in I/1831.

In this advertisement, the publisher Nishimuraya Yohachi announces “The Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji, drawn by the Old Man Iitsu, formerly known as Hokusai: Single sheet prints in blues [that is so-called aizurie] each featuring one view and to be issued one after the other. These prints show how the shape of Mount Fuji is different when seen from various locations, such as from the coast of Shichirigahama, or more distantly from the Island of Tsukudajima, and so on. On the whole they are of use to those wishing to learn and paint remarkable landscapes. The blocks being cut and printed successively, they may well amount to more than a hundred, and so not restricted to thirty-six plates only.”

Ever since, and especially after Suzuki Jūzō had published an overview of the subsequent Nishimuraya advertisements for Hokusai’s various landscape series, the dating of the series came to be revised to the 1830s (Forrer 1974, p. 87: 1826-33; Kobayashi 1976, pp. 61f.: 1831-33; Forrer 1988, p. 264: 1831-33; Lane 1989, p. 184: 1830-32; Forrer 1991, cat. 11: 1830-35; Forrer 2010, p. 183: 1830-34; Asano 2010, p. 4: 1830-34; Thompson 2015, cat. 20-23: c.1830-31; Sumida Hokusai Museum 2016, cat. 61: c.1831; Clark 2017, p. 108: 1831-33).

So, even though we may all agree that Nishimuraya announces the Fuji series to be published as “prints in tones of blue” (aizurie) in I/1831, we cannot, it seems, agree upon either the date when the first prints were launched (is it 1830 or 1831?), or when the series was completed (1832, 1833, 1834, or 1835). In the Fuji series, we know of ten designs issued in tones of blue, as aizurie. Moreover, we know of some more aizurie by Hokusai, issued by different publishers. It may be good to first have a closer look at these novelties, that is what aizurie were considered at the time — to be continued (I just hope this may help you with better information than Wikipedia that says of the Great Wave: It was published sometime between 1829 and 1833 in the late Edo period as the first print in Hokusai’s series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji)

Forrer 1974
Kobayashi 1976
(Ukiyoe Taikei 13)
Forrer 1988
Lane 1989
Forrer 1991
Asano 2010
　Forrer 2010
Thompson 2014
Clark 2017

🇯🇵『富嶽三十六景』神奈川沖浪裏制作年についての考察：北斎と藍擦絵（１）