Ceramics and Modernity in Japan 0367143305, 9780367143305

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
List of figures
List of tables
Notes on contributors
Acknowledgements
Notes on names and translations
1 A potter’s paradise: The realm of ceramics in modern Japan
PART I
2 Tradition, modernity, and national identity: Celadon production at the Makuzu ceramic workshop 1870–1916
3 More than “Western”: Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table
PART II
4 Modernizing ceramic form and decoration: Kyoto potters and the Teiten
5 Unifying science and art: The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (1896–1920) and ceramic art education during the Taisho era
PART III
6 The spark that ignited the flame: Hamada Shōji, Paterson’s Gallery, and the birth of English studio pottery
7 Okuda Seiichi and the new language of ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan
8 The nude, the empire, and the porcelain vessel idiom of Tomimoto Kenkichi
PART IV
9 Veiled references: The role of glaze in Japanese avant-garde ceramics
10 Koyama Fujio’s view of modern Japanese ceramics and his role in the creation of “Living National Treasures”
EPILOGUE
11 Found in translation: Ceramics and social change
Index

Citation preview

Ceramics and Modernity in Japan

Ceramics and Modernity in Japan offers a set of critical perspectives on the creation, patronage, circulation, and preservation of ceramics during ­ Japan’s most dramatic period of modernization, the 1860s to 1960s. As in other parts of the world, ceramics in modern Japan developed along the three ontological trajectories of art, craft, and design. Yet, it is widely believed that no other modern nation was engaged with ceramics as much as Japan—a “potter’s paradise”—in terms of creation, exhibition, and discourse. This book explores how Japanese ceramics came to achieve such a status and why they were such significant forms of cultural production. Its medium-specific focus encourages examination of issues regarding materials and practices unique to ceramics, including their distinct role throughout Japanese cultural history. Going beyond descriptive historical treatments of ceramics as the products of individuals or particular styles, the closely intertwined chapters probe the relationship between ceramics and modernity, including the ways in which ceramics in Japan were related to their counterparts in Asia and Europe. Featuring contributions by leading international specialists, this book will be useful to students and scholars of art history, design, and Japanese studies. Meghen Jones is Assistant Professor of Art History and Director of Global Studies at the New York State College of Ceramics of Alfred University, USA. Her research centers on ceramics, design, and modern art in Japan and in global perspective. Louise Allison Cort is Curator Emerita for Ceramics, Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, USA. Her primary research interests are historical and contemporary ceramics in Japan, Mainland Southeast Asia, and India.

Routledge Research in Art History

Routledge Research in Art History is our home for the latest scholarship in the field of art history. The series publishes research monographs and edited collections, covering areas including art history, theory, and visual culture. These high-level books focus on art and artists from around the world and from a multitude of time periods. By making these studies available to the worldwide academic community, the series aims to promote quality art history research. The Paragone in Nineteenth-Century Art Sarah Jordan Lippert The Persistence of Melancholia in Arts and Culture Edited by Andrea Bubenik The Mobility of People and Things in the Early Modern Mediterranean The Art of Travel Edited by Elisabeth Fraser Landscape Painting in Revolutionary France Liberty’s Embrace Steven Adams American Pop Art in France Politics of the Transatlantic Image Liam Considine Ceramics and Modernity in Japan Edited by Meghen Jones and Louise Allison Cort

For a full list of titles in this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Research-in-Art-History/book-series/RRAH

Ceramics and Modernity in Japan

Edited by Meghen Jones and Louise Allison Cort

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Meghen Jones and Louise Allison Cort; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Meghen Jones and Louise Allison Cort to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Jones, Meghen, editor. | Cort, Louise Allison, 1944– editor. Title: Ceramics and modernity in Japan / edited by Meghen Jones and Louise Allison Cort. Identifiers: LCCN 2019027824 (print) | LCCN 2019027825 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367143305 (hardback) | ISBN 9780429031298 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429633485 (adobe pdf) | ISBN 9780429630507 (mobi) | ISBN 9780429631993 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Pottery, Japanese—Meiji period, 1868–1912. | Pottery, Japanese—20th century. | Art and society—Japan— History—19th century. | Art and society—Japan—History— 20th century. Classification: LCC NK4167.6 .C47 2020 (print) | LCC NK4167.6 (ebook) | DDC 738.0952/0904—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019027824 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019027825 ISBN: 978-0-367-14330-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-03129-8 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by codeMantra

Contents

List of figures List of tables Notes on contributors Acknowledgements Notes on names and translations 1 A potter’s paradise: The realm of ceramics in modern Japan

vii xiii xiv xviii xix 1

M E GH E N JON E S

PART I

19

2 Tradition, modernity, and national identity: Celadon production at the Makuzu ceramic workshop 1870–1916

21

C L A R E P OL L A R D

3 More than “Western”: Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table

40

M A RY R E DF E R N

PART II

67

4 Modernizing ceramic form and decoration: Kyoto potters and the Teiten

69

GI SE L A JA H N

5 Unifying science and art: The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (1896–1920) and ceramic art education during the Taisho era M A E Z A K I SH I N YA

90

vi Contents PART III

107

6 The spark that ignited the flame: Hamada Shōji, Paterson’s Gallery, and the birth of English studio pottery

109

J U L I A N S TA I R

7 Okuda Seiichi and the new language of ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan

128

SE U NG Y E ON SA NG

8 The nude, the empire, and the porcelain vessel idiom of Tomimoto Kenkichi

144

M E GH E N JON E S

PART IV

167

9 Veiled references: The role of glaze in Japanese avant-garde ceramics

169

L OU I SE A L L I S ON C ORT

10 Koyama Fujio’s view of modern Japanese ceramics and his role in the creation of “Living National Treasures”

189

K I DA TA KU YA

EPILOGUE

209

11 Found in translation: Ceramics and social change

211

TA N YA H A R ROD

Index

223

Figures

1.1 Still from Ugetsu Monogatari, directed by Mizoguchi Kenji, 1953. Daiei, Kyoto Studio. 1 1.2 Serizawa Keisuke, Map of Traditional Rural Potteries in Present Japan, 1970. Woodblock print, 59.1 x 71.1 cm framed. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Halsey and Alice North. 5 2.1 The Makuzu workshop, ca. 1886. From Fukamachi Dōhanjo, Yokohama shokaisha shoten no zu, ca. 1883–91. 22 2.2 Miyagawa Chōzō, Korean-style celadon stoneware tea bowl with an inlaid design of cranes and clouds, ca. 1850s. 8.7 x 12.0 cm. Miyagawa Kōsai Collection. 25 2.3 Miyagawa Kōzan, porcelain vase with copper red “peachbloom” glaze, 1890s. 6.4 x. 6.6 cm. Ashmolean Museum, EA1956.682, Gift of Sir Herbert and Lady Ingram. 26 2.4 Miyagawa Kōzan, porcelain exhibits at Paris Exposition Universelle, 1900. Thomson 1901: 283. © Bodleian Library. 30 2.5 Miyagawa Kōzan, Longquan celadon-style vase with a design of peonies in low relief, presented to the Imperial Museum (now Tokyo National Museum) by Kōzan to commemorate the coronation of Emperor Taisho, 1912. Porcelain with celadon glaze, H. 35.8 cm. Tokyo National Museum. 32 2.6 Miyagawa Kōzan, incense burner in the shape of a shishi lion dog, 1905–1910. Porcelain with celadon glaze, H. 16.8 cm. Gift of Lieutenant-Colonel Kenneth Dingwall DSO through The Art Fund (purchased at the JapanBritish Exhibition). © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 33 2.7 Miyagawa Kōzan, sencha tea set, 1912–1916. Porcelain with celadon glaze, teapot 9.0 x 13.5 cm, cups 5.0 x 8.0 cm. Private collection, on loan to the Miyagawa Kōzan Makuzu Museum. 34 3.1 Seiji Kaisha, lozenge-shaped dish with paulownia crest, ca. 1880–1889. Porcelain with gilding, 26.0 x 14.0 x 3.4 cm. Private collection. 41

viii Figures 3.2 Seiji Kaisha, lozenge-shaped dish with animals in vines, ca. 1880–1889. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 26.5 x 14.0 x 3.7 cm. Momota Family Collection. 41 3.3 Tokonami Masayoshi (1842–1897), Hōmeiden gobaishoku no zu (Imperial Banquet in the Hōmeiden), 1890. Colors on silk, 68.8 x 123.3 cm. Collections of the Imperial Household Archives, Imperial Household Agency. 43 3.4 Sèvres manufactory, cup and saucer for use at the Chateaux of Saint-Cloud and Compiègne; cup 1833, saucer 1842, France. Hard-paste porcelain with blue enamel and gilding, cup 6.4 x 6.7 cm, saucer 13.3 cm. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Gift of Rev. Alfred Duane Pell. 49 3.5 Seiji Kaisha, tureen with paulownia crest, ca. 1880. Porcelain with gilding, 17.6 cm. Private collection. Photographer Masatomo Moriyama. 49 3.6 Dish with chrysanthemum crests, cherry blossom, and cranes, 1800–1840s. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 10.8 x 2.1 cm. Hakū Collection, Kyushu Ceramic Museum. 50 3.7 Seiji Kaisha, sauce tureen with animals in vines from the “Mikado Service,” 1883. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 19.1 x 17.5 cm. Philadelphia Museum of Art. Gift of the McNeil Americana Collection, 2006-3-120a-c. 53 3.8 Seiji Kaisha, dessert plate with animals in vines from the “Mikado Service,” 1883. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 21.6 x 1.6 cm. © Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, MA. Gift of Thomas B. Hazard. 54 3.9 Mirror with lions and animals chasing among vines, Tang Dynasty (618–906). Cast cupronickel alloy, 29.7 x 2.0 cm. Shōsōin Collection, South Storehouse. 55 4.1 Kiyomizu Rokubei VI, vase with mother and child motif, 1927. Stoneware, 40 x 20 cm. Private collection. 73 4.2 Kusube Yaichi, vase with grapevine motif, 1927. Stoneware, 36 x 28 cm. Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art. 74 4.3 Kiyomizu Rokubei V, Otowa ware vase with narrow neck and design of flowers and grasses, 1914. Stoneware, 22.5 x 8.5 cm. Private collection. 76 4.4 Kiyomizu Rokubei VI, vase with floral pattern, 1938. Stoneware with sgrafitto, 31.5 x 38.6 cm. Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art. 77 4.5 Miyanaga Tōzan I, vase with grapevine motif, 1935. Stoneware with inlay under celadon glaze, 39 x 25.5 cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art. 78

Figures  ix 4.6 Kondō Yūzō, bulbous ribbed vase with prunus and bamboo motif, 1934. Stoneware with inlay under celadon glaze. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 6, Nittenshi 11, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 489, fig. 108. 79 4.7 Yonezawa Sohō, vase with floral motif, exhibited at the thirteenth Teiten, 1933. Stoneware. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 5, Nittenshi 10, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 476, fig. 210. 81 4.8 Miyanaga Tōzan I, vase with moth motif, Taisho era (1912–1926). Stoneware, 17 x 16 cm. Private collection. 82 4.9 Kusube Yaichi, vase, exhibited at the twelfth Teiten, 1931. Stoneware. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 5, Nittenshi 10, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 280, fig. 74. 84 4.10 Itō Suiko, vase with rhombic flower motif, 1934. Porcelain, 43 x 17.2 cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art. 85 4.11 Toyoda Katsuaki, square vase, 1931. Bronze, 48 x 21 cm. Ishibashi Museum. 85 5.1 The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute. © Kyoto Municipal Institute of Industrial Technology and Culture. 91 5.2 Staff of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute, ca. 1916–1917. From left: Hamada Shōji, Fukuda Naoichi, Mihashi Kiyoshi, Komori Shinobu, Kawai Kanjirō, Hiraki Itaru, Takita Iwazō. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan. 92 5.3 Celadon vase and incense burner presented to the imperial family, ca. 1915. Front row from left: Terasawa Tomotame, Shōfū Kajō, the vase and incense burner, Kinkōzan Sōbei VII, Takita Iwasō. Second row from left: Yoshijima Jirō, Fukuda Naoichi, unknown, Ueda Toyokichi, Mihashi Kiyoshi, unknown, Mekama Shinichi. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan. 93 5.4 Fujie Eikō, image taken from Ko Fujie Eikō kun kōseki hyōshōkai ed., Fujie Eikō den (1932). 94 5.5 Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Itō Tōzan I). Bowl with Momoyama-style willow tree and bridge, 1917–1920. Stoneware with underglaze blue and black with overglaze enamels. Private collection. 97 5.6 Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). Majolica vase with a peasant digging potatoes, 1900–1920. Stoneware with polychrome enamels. Private collection. 97 5.7 Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). Vase with saxifrage, 1900–1920. Stoneware with underglaze polychrome decoration and gold. Private collection. 98

x Figures 5.8 Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). Vase with farfugium, 1900–1920. Green stoneware with underglaze polychrome decoration. Private collection. 98 5.9 Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke, 1923. © Asahi Pottery. 100 5.10 The Tokyo Higher Technical School, ca. 1914. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan. 102 6.1 Hamada Shōji, bowl, Leach Pottery, St Ives, UK, ca. 1922– 1923. Earthenware with incised decoration through white slip and brown glaze, 18.2 x 6.5 cm. © Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), London. Hamada made this bowl at the Leach Pottery in St Ives and showed it at the Paterson Gallery, where the V&A purchased it. 109 6.2 Timeline of early studio pottery, related exhibitions, events, and publications. 110 7.1 In a gathering of ceramics connoisseurs, Okuda Seiichi appears in the back row, second from the left; Robert L. Hobson stands fourth from the left; and dealer Yamanaka Sadajirō is at the far right. From Tōji (Oriental Ceramics) 2, no. 6 (June 1930): Plate 1. 129 7.2 Kakiemon jar from the Satō Kōichi collection. From Ōkōchi Masatoshi, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima (rev. ed., 1933), Fig. 5. 131 7.3 Images of the Seto tea caddy named Hirosawa, with storage container and storage box lid. From Takahashi Yoshio, Taishō meikikan 4, no. 2 (1927). 134 8.1 Tomimoto Kenkichi and Fujikawa Yūzō at the Fontaine de l’Observatoire, Paris, 1909 or 1910. Photograph. Minami Kunzō Kinenkan. 144 8.2 Tomimoto Kenkichi, porcelain jar, 1919. 16.5 x 16 cm. Private collection. 146 8.3 Tomimoto Kenkichi, large porcelain jar, 1941. 27 x 36.1 cm. Gifu Prefectural Ceramics Museum. 147 8.4 Installation, Stoneware Pottery and Porcelain by Kenkichi Tomimoto and Bernard Leach, Beaux Arts Gallery, London, May 5–22, 1931. Image (BHL/8785) kindly provided by the Crafts Study Centre, University for the Creative Arts. 147 8.5 Aristide Maillol, La Méditerranée, ca. 1906. Carrara marble, 21.6 x 17.2 x 12.7 cm. National Gallery of Art, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon. 151 8.6 Umehara Ryūzaburō, Seated Woman, 1933. Oil on canvas. 92 x 60 cm. Private collection. 153 8.7 Bernard Leach, A Savage, 1915–20. From Yanagi Sōetsu, ed. An English Artist in Japan. Tokyo: Private publication, 1920. 154

Figures  xi 8.8 Nojima Yasuzō, photograph of Tomimoto Kenkichi, hakuji tsubo, in Nojima Yasuzō, ed. Tomimoto Kenkichi tōkishū (Tomimoto Kenkichi ceramics collection). Tokyo: Private publication, 1933. 155 8.9 Nojima Yasuzō, Untitled, 1931. Bromoil print, 275 x 405 mm. National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto. 155 8.10 Anon., white porcelain “moon jar.” Korea, seventeenth– eighteenth century. H. 47 cm. British Museum. 157 8.11 Tomimoto Kenkichi, Full Moon over the East Gate in Seoul (Keijō tōdaimon mangetsu), 1934. Porcelain ornamental plate (tōban) with underglaze blue, 2 x 27.6 cm. Crafts Gallery, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. 159 9.1 Yagi Kazuo, Mr. Samsa’s Walk (Zamuza-shi no sampo), 1954. Stoneware with jōkon glaze, 27.5 x 27.0 x 14.0 cm. Private collection. 169 9.2 Yagi Kazuo, Jar with sgraffito design of sunflowers (Kakiotoshi himawari-zu tsubo), 1947. Stoneware with white slip and clear and copper-green glazes, 31.2 x 21.2 cm. Private collection. 175 9.3 Yagi Kazuo, Corona (Kinkanshoku), 1948. Stoneware with white slip, black pigment inlay, and clear glaze, 48.5 x 17.0 cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Modern Art. 175 9.4 Suzuki Osamu, Clay Image: Cellist (Deizo: Serohiki), 1987. Stoneware with red-brown iron slip and ash glaze, 42.3 x 31 x 19.2 cm. Purchase—funds provided by John and Marinka Bennett, Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. 179 9.5 Suzuki Osamu, Thunder Child (Raiko), 1985. Porcelain with pale blue (seihakuji) glaze, 30.6 x 20.8 x 4.9 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, gift of Jane and Raphael Bernstein. 180 9.6 Yagi Kazuo, Untitled, 1958. Burnished and smoke-infused stoneware; wooden stand, 22.8 x 14.5 x 11.5 cm (without stand). Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art. 181 9.7 Yamada Hikaru, Black Pottery Windows (Kokutō no mado), 1983. Burnished and smoke-infused stoneware, 31.1 x 61 x 7.6 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, gift of Halsey and Alice North in honor of David, Lia, William, and Richard Royle. 182 9.8 Yagi Kazuo, Jar—Flowery inlay for flowers (Tsubo—Hana no hana mishima), 1971. Stoneware with white slip under clear glaze, 16.5 x 24.4 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, purchase—funds provided anonymously in memory of Yagi Sakiyo. 183 9.9 Yagi Kazuo, Wall (Hekitai), 1964. Stoneware with white slip, 52.0 x 68.5 x 6.5 cm. Private collection. 183

xii Figures 10.1 Koyama Fujio (right) with collector Sir Percival David, Lady David, and art dealer Mayuyama Junkichi, Bridgestone Museum, Tokyo, November 9, 1956. Courtesy of Japan Ceramic Society. 190 10.2 Ceramic shards discovered by Koyama Fujio from the ruins of the Dingyao kiln in northern China, 1941. Nezu Museum, Tokyo. Koyama Fujio, a Potter’s Dream, Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 2003. 192 10.3 Arakawa Toyozō, Tea bowl, Shino ware, 1957. The fourth Japanese Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, 9.5 x 12.6 cm. The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. 202 10.4 Ishiguro Munemaro, Speckled Karatsu ware jar, 1956. The third Japanese Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, 18.2 x 15.5 cm. Izumi City Shinminato Museum. 203 11.1 Miyagawa Kōzan, Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave, Yokohama, 1905–1910. Porcelain with turquoise and brown underglaze, impressed mark “Makuzu” for the workshop, 22.2 x 15.9 cm. Presented by Lieutenant-Colonel Kenneth Dingwall DSO with National Art Collections Fund support. Acquired by Dingwall at the Japan-British Exhibition held at White City, London, 1910. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 213 11.2 Bernard Leach and Hamada Shōji opening a joint kiln with Matsumoto Sono at Mashiko, Japan, ca. 1934. © Pitzhanger Manor & Gallery, Ealing, London. 217

Tables

1.1 Japanese ceramics exports in the Meiji era. Source: Gaimushō [Ministry of Foreign Affairs], Tsūshō ihen [Report on foreign trade] (Tokyo, 1887–1912), rpt. in Yamada, 220. 11 3.1 Seiji Kaisha estimates for the dinner set with paulownia crest and the dinner set with animals in vines (recorded here as “tableware with underglaze blue design”). Adapted from estimate for tableware, Seiji Kaisha, July 18, 1880, from “Goyōdoroku kōnyū,” vol. 5, 1880, Archives of the Imperial Household Agency: 69036. 46

Contributors

Louise Allison Cort is Curator Emerita for Ceramics at the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Her interests include historical and contemporary ceramics in Japan, Southeast Asia, and South Asia, Japanese baskets and textiles, and the Japanese arts of tea (chanoyu). She is the author of Shigaraki, Potters’ Valley, published in 1979 and reprinted in 2000. In 2008 she prepared (with George Ashley Williams IV and David P. Rehfuss) the online catalogue Ceramics in Mainland Southeast Asia: Collections in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery. Her study on Indian ritual earthenware, Temple Potters of Puri, in collaboration with Purna Chandra Mishra, was published in 2012. With Andrew M. Watsky, she organized and co-edited Chigusa and the Art of Tea (2014). She is completing an annotated translation of the 1678–79 diary of a Tosa potter’s sojourn in Edo. Tanya Harrod  contributes regularly to The Burlington Magazine, The Guardian, Crafts, Apollo, and The Times Literary Supplement. She is on the Advisory Panel of The Burlington Magazine and on the Acquisitions Committee of the Contemporary Art Society. She is a member of the International Association of Art Critics, of the London-based Critic’s Circle, and of the Art Workers Guild. In 1999, she was given a Ceramics Arts Foundation Award for distinguished service to the Ceramic Arts. With Glenn Adamson and Edward S. Cooke, she is founder editor of The Journal of Modern Craft. Her books include The Crafts in Britain in the Twentieth Century (1999); The Last Sane Man: Michael Cardew, Modern Pots, Colonialism and the Counterculture (2012, winner of the 2012 James Tait Black Prize for biography); The Real Thing: Making in the Modern World (2015), and Craft: Documents of Contemporary Art (2018). Gisela Jahn studied ceramics at the Academy of Fine Arts in Munich. She organized the exhibition Erde und Feuer: Japanische Traditionelle Keramik der Gegenwart (Munich, Düsseldorf, Berlin, 1984) and Shimaoka ­Tatsuzō  Keramik (Munich, Karlsruhe, 1986). From 1983 to 2000, she worked as program director for Japanese Ceramics at the Fred Jahn Gallery in Munich, where she arranged exhibitions with renowned potters

Contributors  xv working in traditional-style tea ceramics. Jahn has edited a number of catalogues, and she is the author of several texts on the Korean potter-­ artist Young-Jae Lee. In addition, she lectured at the University of Heidelberg and Freie Universität Berlin. In 2004, she published Meiji Ceramics: The Art of Export Ceramics and Satsuma Ware 1868–1912. From 2006 to 2012, she was Research Fellow at the Institute of Art History, East Asian Art History, Freie Universität Berlin. Her most recent book, Japanische Keramik, Aufbruch im 20. Jahrhundert, was published in 2014. Meghen Jones is Assistant Professor of Art History and Director of Global Studies at the New York State College of Ceramics of Alfred University. She was a Robert and Lisa Sainsbury Fellow (2013–14) and is currently an Academic Associate of the Sainsbury Institute for the Study of Japanese Arts and Cultures. Previously, she was Teaching Fellow in Japanese Studies at Earlham College (2011–13) and a Fulbright Fellow based at the Crafts Gallery of the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo (2009– 10). Her research centers on Japanese ceramics, modern craft, and art in international perspective, with recent publications including catalogue essays and the article “Hamada Shōji, Kitaōji Rosanjin, and the Reception of Japanese Pottery in the Early Cold War United States” (Design and Culture 9:2, 2017). She is currently working on a book manuscript on Tomimoto Kenkichi. She received a PhD in the History of Art and Architecture from Boston University and an MA in Industrial, Interior, and Craft ­Design from Musashino Art University. Kida Takuya is Professor of the History of Art and Design at Musashino Art University in Tokyo. From 1997 to 2017 he was Curator at the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. He received his doctoral degree from Waseda University, and his research specialization is modern crafts and design in Japan. He curated the exhibitions Modern Revival of ­Momoyama Ceramics (2002), Art Nouveau in Japan 1900–1923 (2005), and Japanese Crossing Borders: Asia as Dreamed by Craftspeople 1910s–1945 (2012). His recent essays include “Japanese Crafts and Cultural Exchange with the USA in the 1950s: Soft Power and John D. Rockefeller III during the Cold War” (Journal of Design History, 25:4, 2012) and “Ōkōchi Masatoshi and Okuda Seiichi: The Tōjiki Kenkyūkai, Saikokai, and Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo: Focusing on the Taisho Period” (Tōyō tōji 42, 2013). Maezaki Shinya  is Associate Professor at Kyoto Women’s University and Researcher at the Archival Research Centre, Kyoto City University of Arts. He completed a BA in Chinese History at Ryukoku University and an MA in the History of Chinese Art and PhD in the History of Japanese Art at SOAS, University of London. He specializes in the history of Japanese ceramics and bamboo art of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. He became a member of the Digital Archive Project at the Art Research Center, Ritsumeikan University, in 2009 and worked to digitize Japanese decorative art collections in Europe and North America. Currently he is

xvi Contributors working on the digitization project of the Tomimoto Kenkichi Archive at the Kyoto City University of Arts. Clare Pollard is Curator of Japanese Art at the Ashmolean Museum, ­Oxford. After gaining her doctorate in Oxford in 1996, she worked for seven years as Curator of the East Asian Collections at the Chester Beatty ­Library, Dublin. In 2004 she took up the position of Curator of Japanese Art at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney, before returning to the Ashmolean in 2006. Her research has focused mainly on Meiji decorative arts, and her publications include Master Potter of Meiji Japan: Makuzu Kōzan (1842–1916) and his Workshop (2003) and Threads of Silk and Gold: Ornamental Textiles from Meiji Japan (2012). In recent years she has developed a series of exhibitions and catalogues of the Ashmolean’s Japanese print collections (including Hiroshige—Landscape Cityscape: Woodblock prints in the Ashmolean Museum and Plum Blossom & Green Willow: Japanese surimono poetry prints from the Ashmolean Museum). She is currently working on an exhibition to be held during the Tokyo Olympics in 2020, entitled Tokyo: Art & Photography. Mary Redfern is Curator of the East Asian Collection at the Chester Beatty, Dublin. Prior to receiving her PhD from University of East Anglia in 2015, Redfern worked with East Asian collections at the National Museum of Scotland (2009–11) and the Victoria and Albert Museum (2008– 09). Redfern’s research addresses ceramic tableware made for the Meiji Emperor of Japan in the late nineteenth century, analyzing the trajectories that brought it to the emperor’s table and revealing the ways in which material practices of dining were employed to shape and articulate the emperor’s sovereign identity. Her publications include Tennō no dainingu hōru (The Emperor’s Dining Hall) written with Yamazaki Taisuke and Imaizumi Yoshiko (Shibunkaku, 2017), and The Art of Friendship: Japanese Surimono Prints (Chester Beatty, 2017). Seung Yeon Sang is currently a Japan Foundation Fellow at Tokyo University of the Arts. She received her PhD from the Department of History of Art and Architecture at Boston University. Her areas of expertise and research interests are Japanese and Korean ceramics, and the impact of Japan’s modern transformations on chanoyu and art history. She has been the recipient of fellowships from the Japan Foundation, the Korea Foundation, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Smithsonian Institution (Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery), and the Sainsbury Institute for the Study of Japanese Arts and Cultures. From 2016 to 2018, she was the Henderson Curatorial Fellow in East Asian Art at the Harvard Art Museums. Julian Stair is a potter and writer, gaining his PhD in English studio pottery from the Royal College of Art in 2002. He has work in 30 public

Contributors  xvii collections including the Victoria and Albert Museum, British Museum, American Museum of Art and Design, Mashiko Museum of Ceramic Art, Museum Boijmans van Beuningen, and Kolumba Museum. Recent solo exhibitions include Quietus: The Vessel, Death and the Human Body (mima, NMW Cardiff, Winchester Cathedral, and Somerset House, London, 2012–14), Quotidian (2014), and Equivalence (2018), both ­Corvi-Mora Gallery, L ­ ondon. He exhibited in Things of Beauty Growing (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven, and the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, 2017–18) and also contributed to the exhibition catalogue, edited by G.  Adamson, M. Droth, and S. Olding (2017). He has written on early studio ceramics for various other publications including ­Beyond Bloomsbury: Designs of the Omega Workshop 1913–19, edited by A. Gerstein (2009), and Ben Nicholson and Winifred Nicholson: Art and Life, edited by J. ­Nicholson (2013). He is a Research Fellow at the V&A Research Institute.

Acknowledgements

This volume developed out of the workshop Ceramics and Cultural Production in Modern Japan held on May 23, 2014 at the Sainsbury Institute for the  Study of Japanese Arts and Cultures (SISJAC) in Norwich, UK. Organized by Meghen Jones (Robert and Lisa Sainsbury Fellow 2013–14), this international workshop dedicated to the topic of ceramics created and circulated in modern Japan brought together scholars of Japanese ceramics history, Japanese art history, British craft history, and modern design history. Meaningful dialogue was generated through interaction of the authors of this volume with our distinguished discussants: Joe Earle (Independent Japanese art consultant, UK), Rupert Faulkner (Victoria and Albert Museum), Christine Guth (Royal College of Art and Victoria and Albert Museum), Tanya Harrod (Independent scholar), and Paul Greenhalgh (Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts). Their questions and comments, as well as those of the scholars and graduate students in attendance, have shaped our approach to compiling this volume, and we wish to express our utmost appreciation to SISJAC for its support of this project. We are also grateful to the Kyoto Ceramic Art Association for a generous subvention towards this publication.

Notes on names and translations

Japanese names, including the names of the Japanese authors of chapters in this book, are given in the customary order of surname followed by given name. Following convention, in shortened form we use the given name for some artists’ names, such as Rosanjin. In this volume we use the modified Hepburn (hyōjun) system for romanizing Japanese, with a macron over a vowel indicating it is a long vowel. Familiar place names, such as Tokyo, and historical era names, such as Taisho, are written without macrons. For ­romanizing Korean, we use the Ministry of Culture and Tourism ROK ­revised system, and for Chinese, Pinyin. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are by each chapter’s author. In citations, translations of titles from foreign languages to English ­appear within brackets.

1 A potter’s paradise The realm of ceramics in modern Japan Meghen Jones

Released the year after the end of the Allied Occupation, Mizoguchi Kenji’s acclaimed 1953 film Ugetsu provokes reflections about a variety of issues concerning modernity and Japanese ceramics.1 Setting the film in the wartorn sixteenth century, Mizoguchi brought together narratives stemming from several sources to tell a story about ambition, greed, and war’s toll on people from all walks of life. The film’s protagonist, Genjūrō, is a potter who is shown in one scene determinedly throwing a clay bowl on a wheel that his wife vigorously turns, while their son looks on. When invaders threaten their village, they risk their lives by staying at the kiln to protect their precious goods. Then, defying warnings in order to seek profit, Genjūrō travels to the market to sell his wares to rivaling soldiers. It is there that he encounters Lady Wakasa, a wealthy woman who makes a large purchase and invites him to her palace where he is served a meal using his pottery (fig. 1.1). Within the palace’s refined walls, Genjūrō’s rough, utilitarian

Figure 1.1  Still from Ugetsu Monogatari, directed by Mizoguchi Kenji, 1953. Daiei, Kyoto Studio.

2  Meghen Jones vessels come to be seen as objects of high beauty. “The value of people and things truly depends on their setting,” Genjūrō utters, when Lady Wakasa compliments his work. But he becomes ensorcelled by her, and the narrative grows dark when it becomes apparent that she is a ghost. Like the fictional Genjūrō, many potters in modern Japan, even after the introduction of electric-powered pottery wheels, embraced anachronistic techniques such as turning the potter’s wheel by hand. And many potters, beginning in the 1930s, revived the styles of Momoyama period (1573–1615) Seto and Mino glazed stoneware, fired in wood-fueled kilns, as we see in the film. Studio potters throughout the world today continue to be inspired by Momoyama ceramics. And, like Genjūrō, modern Japanese potters have been renowned for their dedication to the production of utilitarian ceramic vessels, pursuit of success in the marketplace, and acclaim by patrons from the highest echelons of society. Since the end of World War II, the realm of ceramics in Japan has often been described as a “potter’s paradise.” The celebrated ceramic artist Tomimoto Kenkichi remarked in 1946 to readers of a popular women’s journal, “Superior quality ceramics permeate Japan, and probably no other nation’s people are interested in ceramics as much as the Japanese.”2 To audiences in the United States in 1952, Mingei (folk craft) movement leader Yanagi Sōetsu stated: Different from occidental countries, Japan is in a very blessed social condition in respect to the arts of pottery. Japan may be a paradise for potters; people have a special inclination and regard for ceramics; there are a great number of collectors and publications about pottery have never failed to sell. That is because of the traditional and typical culture of Japan.3 The culture Yanagi references is that of the ritualistic drinking of tea (chanoyu), flower arranging (ikebana), and cuisine. Many others in modern Japan have echoed such an exceptionalist claim regarding Japanese ceramics and culture. Koyama Fujio, too, greatly influenced the perception of ceramics in Japan and abroad, and referred to Japan as a “potter’s paradise,” as Kida Takuya discusses in his chapter here. More recently, in the catalogue for a major exhibition of Japanese ceramics in 1993, curator Frederick Baekeland proclaimed that “the West is a desert” in comparison to the rich heritage of ceramics in Japan.4 It is widely believed that no other modern nation was engaged with ceramics as much as Japan in terms of creation, exhibition, and discourse. As the chapters in this volume demonstrate, constructing a potter’s paradise in modern Japan involved diverse individuals and institutions negotiating the complex epistemological terrains of the past, the nation, and the outside world. Analysis of ceramics thus provides a window for understanding key aspects of modernity in Japan, particularly discernible in praxis,

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  3 pedagogy, and patronage. Going beyond often-seen descriptive historical treatments of ceramics as simply the products of individuals or particular “schools,” the chapters that follow probe, in particular, the uses of ceramics as forms of cultural production and the ways in which ceramics in modern Japan relate to their counterparts in Asia and Europe. Each chapter uses a distinct methodological approach that untangles objects and ideas from rhetoric, exposing the mechanisms by which modern ceramics in Japan came to be. And the medium-specific focus here positions modern ceramics as part of the long continuum of ceramics in Japan. Our time span is the early Meiji era (1868–1912) to the mid-Showa era (1926–89), or what can be regarded as roughly the first hundred years of modernity in Japan. We set 1970 as our end date for this volume in order to limit the purview to only the early iterations of avant-garde sculptural ceramic vessels (obuje, Japanese for objet).5 Yet some of the makers and institutions discussed continue to thrive today, and the discourse these chapters examine is foundational to understanding contemporary Japanese ceramics.

Historicizing modern Japanese ceramics “Modern Japan” generally refers to the period of industrialization and cultural transformation that occurred due to the so-called opening of Japan to the outside world in the mid-nineteenth century. Most historians agree that Japan entered this period formally in 1868 with the collapse of the Tokugawa shogunate and the newly ensconced Meiji government’s rapid enactment of economic, social, and institutional changes intended to bring ­Japan into the international community of modern nations—in short, to put Japan on par with the West. Commodore Perry’s forced opening of Japan to trade with the United States in the 1850s was a major catalyst for these mass transformations in society. While definitions of modernity and modernism are highly contested, the view of modernity as disseminating from the West has given way to the acknowledgement of the presence of multiple modernities throughout the world. Thus, we approach Japan’s modernity as one, in the words of John Clark, “intrinsic to [its] culture by comparison with its various pasts.”6 Indeed, the study of modern Japanese ceramics provides fruitful opportunities for tracing Japan’s pasts. Ceramics during the century of concern here—the Meiji era (1868–1912) to the mid-Showa era (1926–89)—are typically ordered according to several phases that do not fully account for the complexities of this history. The first is the Meiji era of vigorous government support of exports and the heyday of international expositions. The second is the Taisho era (1912–26) emergence of individualistic artistic expression, followed by the 1930s revivals of Momoyama period ceramics, sparked by archaeological excavations of kiln sites. And the last phase is the post-World War II avant-garde development of sculptural ceramic vessels, or obuje.7 But these phases are somewhat fluid, as the chapters in this volume demonstrate. For example,

4  Meghen Jones Meiji era government support of ceramics can be seen as a continuation of patronage dating to that of daimyo (feudal lords) of the seventeenth century. Such support continued through the twentieth century, particularly in the 1950s when the government began granting stipends to so-called Living National Treasures. Individualistic expression championed in the Taisho era bore elements of modernist subjectivities, but recognition of individuals for their artistry in the medium dates far earlier, to the Kyoto potter Nonomura Ninsei (active ca. 1646–77) or the founder of the Raku dynasty, Chōjirō, in the 1580s. Further, while vanguardism is certainly a feature of postwar Japanese ceramics, it is rooted in changes in the way the ceramic vessel was understood in the early twentieth century, particularly in light of the display of ceramics at the national salon, discussed below. One other aspect of the postwar phase of Japanese ceramics, noted by Todate Kazuko in her recently published survey book, is the recognition of female ceramists; although women historically had actively participated in family-run workshops, their names, with rare exceptions, were not previously recorded in histories.8 The analyses in this book aim to offer alternatives to the conventional views of ceramics in modern Japan. Publications on ceramics in modern Japan have tended to fall into the categories of biographical portraits of makers, categorizations of works according to exhibition groups, and exegeses of critical issues related to craft.9 Makers, critics, curators, and collectors have also engaged in dialogue about ceramics and modernity on the pages of Japan’s numerous ceramics journals. Euro-American scholarship on modern Japanese ceramics has tended to focus on three fields: Meiji era ceramic commodities, mingei pottery, and post-World War II avant-garde ceramic art.10 Often omitted in Euro-American publications has been the period between 1912 and 1945—the Taisho era through the end of World War II. Another problematic tendency inside and outside Japan since the late nineteenth century has been inserting the history of modern Japanese ceramics within the rigid and problematic binaries of “East/West” and “tradition/modernity,” to be explored below. Historicizing modern Japanese ceramics is challenged by the perpetuation of the myth that, in pockets of the archipelago, pottery techniques and forms have continued in ways completely untrammeled by modernity. A 1970 woodblock print by Mingei movement artist Serizawa Keisuke maps, as its inscription professes, “Traditional Rural Potteries in P ­ resent ­Japan” (fig. 1.2). This print, distributed by the Japan Folk Crafts Museum and based on a previous one published in Japanese, served as one of many lures of its time drawing in fans of pottery to Japan from the English-­speaking world. Sprinkled over the archipelago are the major ceramics centers such as Arita and Seto, but also smaller villages where work has been made continuously for hundreds of years. At these locales, pottery has served as a potent channel for the past as, indeed, many potteries established centuries

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  5

Figure 1.2  Serizawa Keisuke, Map of Traditional Rural Potteries in Present Japan, 1970. Woodblock print, 59.1 x 71.1 cm framed. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Halsey and Alice North.

earlier have continued production through the twentieth century and in the present. It is a romantic vision of the past, however, to think that ceramics “tradition” is fixed and can directly channel the past, despite the attempts that have been made to construct this vision by leaders of the Mingei movement. As Brian Moeran has chronicled, the mingei “boom” of the late 1950s to early 1970s, primarily among tourists and urban women consumers, forever altered systems of production and local economies for small-scale pottery villages such as Onta in Kyushu.11

Medium and craft In this volume, the terms “ceramics” and “pottery” refer primarily to vessels made of clay fired to a temperature rendering it into irreversible hardness. Whether serving as tableware or objects primarily for appreciation, of concern here are works rooted in utilitarian forms like bowls, vases, and so on. The terms most often used for “ceramics” in Japanese are tōki 陶器, tōjiki 陶磁器, and yakimono 焼物. Tō conveys the meaning of ceramic substance, ki refers to a vessel, and jiki specifies high-temperature-fired wares. Thus tōki and tōjiki mean “ceramic vessel,” and yakimono “fired object.” Another term, tōgei 陶芸, conveys “clay art” or “the art of the potter,” but is often used interchangeably with the other terms. Ceramics as a medium in modern Japan bears a particular set of relationships to the past and the outside world. As one of the oldest known mediums,

6  Meghen Jones it positions modern makers within an incredibly long continuum of making, beginning over 16,000 years ago. Until recently, it was largely accepted that the first ceramic vessels in the world were produced in Japan, although ceramic finds of an earlier age have been uncovered in China.12 And, like other craft mediums, ceramics is a more global form of expression than, for example, painting, due to flows of technologies, styles, and objects. For example, porcelain exports to Europe from Japan starting in the seventeenth century became highly valuable global commodities. The long history of ceramics predating the modern era suggests that inherent in its discourse was an assumption that ceramics possessed value due to its historical significance and success in the global economy. Makers, users, curators, critics, and scholars in modern Japan have tended to conceive of modern handmade ceramics as a subset of craft (kōgei). Before the Meiji era, however, no discernable hierarchical distinction existed between craft, painting, and sculpture. The first British Consul to Japan, ­Rutherford Alcock, famously remarked in 1863 that Japan lacked “Fine Arts,” and later revised this to state that Japanese craftsmen and artists were treated the same. Alcock’s remark resembles the notion of the equivalency of mediums advocated for by William Morris and followers of the British Arts and Crafts movement. However, Morris’s focus was the idealization of the medieval ideals of craft, whereas Alcock’s comment reflects a concern with the status of fine arts.13 A clear division between craft (kōgei) and fine art (bijutsu) emerged with Japan’s participation in international world’s fairs beginning with the Vienna World’s Fair in 1873. That division reflected the Euro-American hierarchical ranking of painting and sculpture as the highest forms of art.14 It is generally understood that the term kōgei came into use at that time. Satō Dōshin has articulated, however, that kōgei as a neologism was not inspired by or based on Western concepts, as was the case for bijutsu (art), kaiga (painting), and chōkoku (sculpture), but arose from deeply rooted concepts within Japan.15 Etymologically, the kō 工 of kōgei referred originally to one of two concepts: a person standing between heaven and earth, or a person possessing skill.16 Importantly, through the end of the Edo period (1615–1868), the concept of kō was linked to medium designations associated with particular enterprises, as in gakō (画工, painter) or tōkō (陶工, potter).17 Regardless of medium, kō implied a particular skill or set of skills. United with gei 芸 or art, then, kōgei implies both the skill of art and the art of skill. Ceramic objects’ relationship to “art” in Japan thus begins with the neologisms bijutsu and kōgei. These terms marked the start of new Japanese epistemological categories of fine art and craft. Thereafter, craft (kōgei) developed a vigorous discourse that extends to today. Bijutsu tōki (art ceramics) is a term that emerged in response to the Meiji era neologism bijutsu kōgei (art craft), but later, in 1927, as described below. In English today we refer to ceramics as one of three often-overlapping ontological strands—craft, design, and art. These correlate to Japanese terms, too—kōgei, dezain, and bijutsu. In Japan some recent writers have taken up

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  7 kōgei as a new cause. A recurrent theme in theoretical writings on Japanese craft, as argued for example by Mori Hitoshi, is that Japanese art and design are both born from kōgei.18 Kitazawa Noriaki temporalizes this notion by stating that, as modernism has faded away, the centrality of craft for artistic creation in Japan is ever more apparent. No longer is craft seen as “impure” ( fujun) in light of modernism’s emphasis on purism ( junsui shugi) and an orientation of independence.19 This stance found in Mori and Kitazawa’s recent texts reflects what Peter Weibel has noted—that after the shifts in European political orders in 1989, numerous efforts have been made to “strip the West of its monopoly” on modernism and its inherent social structures of inclusion and exclusion.20 Theorists in Japan thus have used the Meiji neologism kōgei, often retaining this word in English texts, to emphasize the Japanese historical and cultural contexts distinguishing kōgei from craft. In the recent discourse on kōgei, the perceived primacy of craft is related to the notion that ceramics has strong national, pre-modern roots. As Kida Takuya has argued in his recent book, nationalism has played a large role in the preservation of craft in Japan, and the term “tradition” (dentō) has been used frequently to refer to, at turns, craft techniques, styles, spirit, and Japanese character, in ways that serve to critique originality and encourage cultural unity.21 John Clark’s notion of “neotraditional” art is a useful counterpoint here. Clark uses this term to refer to art’s “rearticulation of earlier local discourses, where one or several styles can be brought together under the name of a ‘new’ version of what is ‘ours.’”22 In this regard, unique to the medium of ceramics is the vast spectrum of ceramic styles in Japan and the degree to which collectors, particularly tea aficionados, have reveled in artful combinations of diverse objects in culinary or tea presentations. Thus, within modern Japanese ceramics, we can readily find attempts to retain identifiable aspects of a given ceramics “tradition,” even when styles are combined or dislocated from their origins. The tendency to find a reliance on a “tradition/modernity” binary in exhibitions and publications about modern Japanese ceramics parallels in some sense what Geeta Kapur has termed, in describing modernism in India, “the double discourse of the national and the modern,” where national implies “traditional” and modern implies international.23 But given the materiality of ceramics and the tendency for artists such as Yagi Kazuo to rely, in their avant-garde works, on established vocabularies of techniques and surfaces, the “modern” often implies cosmopolitanism, not a narrow imitation of Western forms and expressions.

Modern ceramics praxis Documentaries capturing the potter Hamada Shōji hand-turning his wooden wheel with a stick or lighting his massive noborigama climbing kiln filled with pots make it seem that pottery-making techniques remained unchanged in the twentieth century.24 But that, of course, was not the case.

8  Meghen Jones Nor were the changes in ceramic production that occurred over the course of the twentieth century simply a matter of knowledge imported from the West accreting onto existing technologies. Some elements of older workshop systems for production and pedagogical methods of transmitting information were sustained throughout this period, but scientific knowledge of glazes and firing (and education concerning this), the concept of an individual commandeering studio production as an artist, and freer movement leading to diversification, were new. Additionally, as John Clark describes, “the speed and formalization of knowledge transfer between and within generational cohorts” from the Meiji era onwards was new; it altered virtually all aspects of culture, and was visible most notably in the form of publications and ceramics training institutes.25 The political ramifications of the Meiji stance towards the outside world had a ripple effect on education, including that for ceramics. To take one example, Article 5 of the Charter Oath of 1868 stated: “Knowledge shall be sought throughout the world so as to strengthen the foundations of imperial rule.”26 In the Meiji era, in education as well as industry and government, foreigners hired as instructors and advisors (oyatoi gaijin) typified a new approach to learning that relied on a whole-hearted embrace of Euro-­ American technologies. For ceramics, German engineer Gottfried Wagener (1831–92) played a major role in introducing new techniques for formulating glazes and designs for coal-fueled kilns at the Japanese factories and schools where he lectured. Most notably, he worked in Arita in 1870 and taught at the ­Tokyo Vocational School (today’s Tokyo Institute of Technology) from 1876 to 1883. The Japanese government also hired him to advise on Japan’s participation in foreign expositions of craft.27 Wagener was one instigator of widespread changes that shifted education from workshop-based instruction, sometimes within rigid lineages, to urban technical school and art university curricula, as Maezaki Shinya discusses in this volume.28 Freer movement within Japan and to the outside world was another key element of Japanese modernity. For potters, this led to the dispersal of techniques beyond the particular places or regions with which they had once been associated. Japan’s economic growth in the late nineteenth century dislocated population sectors away from regions formerly controlled by daimyo to larger urban centers. According to a new set of economic factors based on export wares, increased efficiency and lower costs associated with goods transport enabled potters to re-locate themselves. One example of this trend is the potter Miyagawa Kōzan I (1842–1916), the subject of Clare Pollard’s chapter, who moved from Kyoto to Yokohama, where he set up a workshop for Satsuma-style ware.29 In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, production of this type of enamel-decorated ceramics, probably first made at the Satsuma daimyo’s Kagoshima kilns in Kyushu, sprang up throughout Japan, as a result of the style’s popularity in international export markets. Kōzan’s transfer of the style from Kyoto, where he learned it, to the port city of Yokohama represents the geographic fluidity associated with modern market forces in Japan.

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  9 Craft modes that in the Edo period had been tethered to discrete geographic regions based on daimyo support and control circulated fluidly through the actions of individuals seeking personal expression, economic prosperity, or both. Some of the most acclaimed ceramists of twentieth-­ century Japan, such as Kitaōji Rosanjin and Tomimoto Kenkichi, commandeered a variety of clays, glazes, and surface approaches that had once been restricted to specific regions. Observers may decry such adoption of styles from the long history of Japanese ceramics as shallow imitation. Kaneko Kenji addresses this criticism by identifying for Japan a unique process that operates beyond the bounds of simple imitation versus creativity. He emphasizes that modern and contemporary craftspeople select materials, techniques, and processes, and that this series of choices is a form of artistic self-expression within a modern logic of craft-making he terms “craftical formation.”30 Thus, an artist like Rosanjin choosing to replicate a Momoyama period Bizen-style idiom can itself be seen as a form of expression. Along similar lines to Kaneko’s notion of “craftical formation,” Michael Lucken argues that modern Japanese art is distinctive in its fluid approach to imitation and creativity, at times avoiding a purely subjective stance towards art making; ceramics could be viewed as also reflective of this.31 It should also be noted that at the same time potters absorbed technical know-how from Europe, or became pluralistic with their styles, many longstanding and revered lineages of ceramics production continued into the twentieth century. The descendants of Chōjirō at the Raku workshop in Kyoto or Sakaida Kakiemon in Arita, for example, boast lineages dating to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, respectively. However, ceramists with such pedigrees have tended to retain many historical methods of production while responding to the present; in other words, their histories have not been static. With respect to the issue of creative imitation, appropriations of continental models took on particular significance for some modern makers and patrons. The term “classical” is used in this volume’s chapters by Clare Pollard and Louise Cort to refer to well-established pre-modern idioms of East Asian ceramics, generally established in China and appropriated by potters in the Korean peninsula, the Japanese archipelago, and beyond. Many ceramists and scholars today, as in earlier decades when modern histories of ceramics were first written, identify the Song dynasty (960–1279) as the first—if not the quintessential—pinnacle of classical East Asian ceramics. The ceramics of that era produced in Japan, in contrast, generally have not received this level of attention or appreciation. The Song dynasty marked the achievement of the first significant quantity of technically proficient porcelain and stoneware vessels glazed with a spectrum of mineral pigments. The term classical, however, should not be considered limited to Song idioms, but, rather, springing from them. For example, celadons of Goryeo dynasty Korea (918–1392) became classical sources for modern ceramists in Japan, such as at the Makuzu workshop described in Pollard’s chapter. Collecting ceramics from the continent also comprised an important continuation of medieval practices. New,

10  Meghen Jones however, in the Taisho era was a set of conceptualizations for appreciating ceramics outside of the contexts of the tea ceremony, as Seung Yeon Sang discusses in this volume, as well as an interest in Joseon dynasty (1392–1910) porcelain from Korea, particularly among Mingei movement leaders.32 To a large degree, the agency of the individual in modern Japanese ceramics marks the separation from pre-modern to modern praxis.33 Individual assertion of authorship over ceramics in Japan began most notably with the aforementioned Nonomura Ninsei, who signed the bases of his ceramic water jars. By the 1920s, the ideal of the individual’s commandeering of all aspects of pottery production, from throwing on the wheel to firing, grew in popularity. This modern ideal is often credited to the Euro-American Arts and Crafts movement and what became known as “art pottery.” But in reality it was a transnational phenomenon, notable, for example, in the correspondences between Tomimoto Kenkichi and Bernard Leach beginning in the late 1910s, as discussed in Chapter 8.

Patronage and exhibitions In the context of modern Japanese history, ceramics exemplify the shifting mechanisms of the forces, base, and relations of production—the division of labor itself. Fundamentally, the daimyo-sponsored relations of production that dominated during the pre-modern era opened up to a free market economy cordoned and bolstered by new institutional mechanisms of control and support. What resulted for the masses, writ large, was the dawn of a new age of availability of ceramics for everyday use, in new kinds of modern homes. Whereas in pre-modern Japan many households with limited means would have relied on wooden bowls for serving everyday food, by the Meiji era the market had expanded to make ceramics available at reasonable prices to virtually all. Modern ceramic “craft”—relying on the handmade or pre-modern processes of m ­ anufacture—gained economic value according to makers’ mastery of techniques and evocation of a variety of aesthetic and cultural values.34 When the roughly 260 daimyo lost governing authority over their domains in 1871, many renowned ceramics producers lost their patrons, but the new government offered aid. Meiji era political leaders saw and took an opportunity to do so, and here lies a critically important aspect of J­ apanese ceramics from the late nineteenth century to today: in many respects, the Japanese government has operated as the most important patron of ­Japanese ceramists, replacing the daimyo sponsorship that had propelled ceramics to such technical and aesthetic heights in previous centuries. As part of a broad promotion of “civilization and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika), the Meiji government supported the participation of Japanese artists and craftsmen in international and domestic expositions. Craft commodities had the potential to advance the Japanese economy, as evidenced, for example, by the success of Satsuma and Hizen ceramics at the 1867 Exposition Universelle in Paris. The Meiji government supported a new entity called

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  11 the Kiryū Kōshō Kaisha (First Trading and Manufacturing Company) in its oversight of the design and production of craft arts for export abroad. The government also helped private companies such as the Ōzeki Company and the Maruki Company establish international sales.35 Japanese porcelain had been exported in great numbers to the Dutch market as early as the seventeenth century.36 But Japanese ceramics achieved worldwide status as objects of high virtuosity only with the Meiji era of world exposition parti­ cipation supported by the Japanese government, beginning in 1871 in Paris. The net result was that, according to Ministry of Foreign Affairs statistics, ceramics exports grew exponentially in the mid to late Meiji era, with the majority of exports going to the United States (table 1.1). Government-sponsored exhibitions from the Meiji era onward provided a firm system for supporting ceramics as highly coveted objects within J­ apan as well as abroad. Thus, the canon of modern art in Japan has had a different trajectory in relationship to craft objects than in other parts of the world. Domestically, the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce, established in the Meiji era, organized a number of expositions of craft objects, most notably the Nōten. These events showcasing craft delighted the Imperial Household Ministry (Kunaishō), which became an enthusiastic patron of craft. A watershed moment in the history of modern ceramics occurred in 1927, when ceramics were first included in the Imperial Art Academy Exhibition (Teikoku Bijutsuin Tenrankai), or Teiten. The eighth Teiten began to accept craft works as “Category four: Bijutsu kōgei (art craft).” As a result of this incorporation, craft artists’ collective activities and group formations in the modern period in Japan emerged along similar lines as those associated with painting, prints, and other art forms. Groups were born,

Table 1.1  Japanese ceramics exports in the Meiji era. Source: Gaimushō [Ministry of Foreign Affairs], Tsūshō ihen [Report on foreign trade] (Tokyo, 1887–1912), rpt. in Yamada, 220. Thousand yen Year United England France Germany China Hong Korea India Australia Total States Kong Exports 1887 % 1892 % 1897 % 1902 % 1907 % 1912 %

296 23 605 41 620 34 913 37 3,816 53 2,586 47

259 20 243 16 237 13 263 11 475 7 376 7

181 14 89 6 51 3 45 2 107 1 149 3

53 4 67 5 45 2 64 3 271 4 271 5

385 29 58 4 74 4 221 9 443 6 295 5

238 16 374 21 248 10 263 4 245 4

15 1 28 2 87 5 220 9 522 7

61 4 108 6 64 3 24 0 243 4

7 1 16 1 77 4 84 3 136 2 185 3

1,312 100 1,480 100 1,819 100 2,462 100 7,216 100 5,452 100

12  Meghen Jones then when factions split new groups emerged, and so forth. Affiliation with one or more organizations was important for many modern Japanese artists in order to show their work in periodic exhibitions organized for group members. In the postwar era, government sponsorship expanded to involve preservation of ceramics craft techniques. The fields of preservation and cultural production are closely aligned when it comes to a variety of twentieth-century Japanese craft mediums, but their intertwining is particularly evident in the case of ceramics. In the years immediately following World War II, preservation surfaced as an endeavor closely tied to redefining Japanese identity. Ceramics could perform as material and practice-based links to the past, fulfilling the desire for both preservation and identity. The Law for the Protection of Cultural Properties came to fruition in 1950, and the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties in 1955 began designating to individuals and groups the stipendiary title “Important Intangible Cultural Property,” colloquially known as Living National Treasure, for the preservation of techniques for craft and other forms of culture. As Kida Takuya has explained, referencing the words of the committee’s leader charged with these designations, “the intentions of the program were to stimulate love of one’s hometown, patriotism, and restoration of the confidence and spirit of independence of the Japanese people, amid defeat and postwar reconstruction.”37 From 1954 onwards, the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition also forged paths for government support of postwar craft. Its independent associated group, the Japan Crafts Association, embraced as its cause the preservation of traditional techniques through the designations of individuals as holders of intangible cultural property. The Association’s founding director, Nishizawa Tekiho (1889–1965), wrote in the 1955 description of the group’s aims that members should make “works firmly based in the special character of the Japanese people, with roots in tradition … The fundamental aim should be to get the world to recognize the spiritual core of Japanese crafts.”38 In this way, Nishizawa argued, Japanese craft preservation was essential, since craft, unlike other forms of material culture, spoke so directly to the “special character” and “spiritual core” of Japan. Connoisseurs and curators have controlled much of the writing of Japanese ceramics history and bringing to fruition modern ceramics exhibitions, competitions, and accolades such as the designations of Living National Treasures. As Kida Takuya describes in his chapter in this volume, men like Koyama Fujio were comparable to the daimyo of Edo Japan in terms of their primary roles in shaping ceramics trends of their day. While the importance of ceramics as a form of cultural production is clear in the immediate postwar era, the roots of that significance can be found in pre-modern institutions.

Organization of this book Writ large, the chapters that follow explore the terrain of ceramics in modern Japan through a variety of analytical lenses. They appear in roughly

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  13 chronological order from the Meiji era until the first decades of the postwar era. The first two chapters focus on Meiji ceramics’ engagements with Asia and ­Europe through case studies. In “Tradition, modernity, and national identity: Celadon production at the Makuzu ceramic workshop 1870–1916,” Clare Pollard takes Miyagawa Kōzan’s turn to celadon production in later life as a case study for exploring the tensions in the Meiji era world of ceramics between feudal and modern taste, cultural values, and modes of production. Kōzan, who had won the highest accolades at world fairs for his Western techniques and materials, turned, in the early 1900s, to an embrace of a “classical” Asian type of ceramics, celadon. In “More than ‘Western’: Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table,” Mary Redfern studies two imperial porcelain dinner sets. She argues that the porcelain dinner services made at Arita for the Meiji Emperor were not simply rote copies of European royal wares, but complex combinations of forms derived from Sèvres imperial prototypes and surfaces derived from images on bronze mirrors in the eighth-century imperial Shōsōin collection. Gisela Jahn and Maezaki Shinya examine the progressiveness of Kyoto ceramists and their educational institutions in the first part of the twentieth century. Jahn’s chapter, “Modernizing ceramic form and decoration: Kyoto potters and the Teiten,” offers visual analyses of forms and surfaces to demonstrate that potters interested in progressive stylizations looked to their counterparts in the metal craft for inspiration. She argues that it was the Kyoto potters, above all, who displayed the greatest number of ceramics from 1913 at the Nōten and, from 1927 onwards, at the Teiten. This study sheds light on the pre-World World II decades of vanguardism in ceramics. Maezaki’s “Unifying science and art: The Kyoto City Ceramic Research I­ nstitute (1896–1920) and ceramic art education during the Taisho era” charts the generational shift between pre-modern ceramists and their sons, the first generation of modern ceramists, in terms of technical and design aspirations that vacillated between “traditional” and “modern.” The chapters by Julian Stair, Seung Yeon Sang, and Meghen Jones consider the ways in which the canon for modern ceramics as modern art arose according to national identities and the interchange of individuals and objects across national borders. Stair’s “The spark that ignited the flame: Hamada Shōji, Paterson’s Gallery, and the birth of English studio pottery” traces Hamada Shōji’s role in influencing the way in which ceramics came to be seen as a form of modernist artistic expression in the West, within the contexts of antiquarianism and exhibitions. Sang’s “Okuda Seiichi and the new language of ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan” considers how Western hierarchies and valuations of “fine arts” affected the early twentieth-century canonization of continental Asian ceramics in Japan, through a deconstruction of key terms for evaluating ceramics. Jones’s “The nude, the empire, and the porcelain vessel idiom of Tomimoto Kenkichi” reveals how the white porcelain jar genre of Tomimoto’s oeuvre engaged with the modern discourse of the nude as well as the contexts of Japanese colonialism.

14  Meghen Jones Louise Allison Cort’s chapter, “Veiled references: The role of glaze in Japanese avant-garde ceramics,” looks at the paradox inherent in 1940s and 1950s Japanese ceramists’ combining of historical Chinese glaze formats like Cizhou with surface markings influenced by modern European artists such as Paul Klee. Kida Takuya’s chapter, “Koyama Fujio’s view of ­Japanese ceramics and his role in the creation of ‘Living National Treasures’,” examines the leading figure in modern Japanese ceramics discourse, who steered the course of postwar valuation of ceramics and designations of “Living National Treasures.” Finally, Tanya Harrod’s epilogue, “Found in translation: Ceramics and social change,” frames the major themes and theoretical issues of the chapters in a global light. Threaded together, these chapters demonstrate that from the 1870s to the 1960s, ceramics in Japan asserted diverse meanings as avant-garde art, embodiments of tradition, preservations of folk culture, and commodities signifying the technical acumen of the nation. A single ceramic object could draw from a variety of ideological wells. It could evoke fifteenth-century forms while relying on modern glaze chemistry. Or it could relate to transnational approaches to surface imagery while also being the product of longstanding Japanese firing techniques. This volume aims to stretch our interpretive stances towards ceramics beyond monolithic notions of culture and to encourage a more nuanced understanding of ceramics as indices of modernity.

Notes 1 I wish to thank Louise Allison Cort, Kida Takuya, Bert Winther-Tamaki, and the anonymous peer reviewer for feedback on earlier drafts of this essay. 2 “Sekai ni okuritai nihon no kōgei 5, Tōki [Japanese craft to send to the world 5, Ceramics],” Fujin no tomo 40, no. 6 (June 1946), back cover. 3 Yanagi, “The Responsibility of the Craftsman,” in Two Essays, 9. 4 Modern Japanese Ceramics in American Collections, 15. 5 See Winther-Tamaki, “Yagi Kazuo.” 6 Modern Asian Art, 14. 7 See, for example, Kaneko Kenji, “‘Kōgei’ to ‘craft’—kindai kōgei no rekishi no naka de [“‘Kōgei’ and ‘craft’—from within modern craft history]” in Ko ōgei shinpojiumu kirokushū henshū iinkai, ed. Bijutsushi no yohaku ni, 101. 8 Todate, Nihon kingendai tōgeishi, 17. Two notable exceptions to the historical gap have been poet, potter, painter, and calligrapher Otagaki Rengetsu (1791–1875) and pottery decorator Minagawa Masu (1875–1960), whose work was acclaimed by mingei aficionados. See Louise Cort, “Women in the Realm of Clay.” 9 Comprehensive surveys include Minami Kunio, Kindai Nihon to tōji [Modern Japanese ceramics] (Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1990); Inui Yoshiaki, Gendai tōgei no keifu [Geneology of modern ceramics] (2 vol., Tokyo: Yobisha, 1991); ­Nakanodō Kazunobu, Kindai Nihon no tōgeika [Ceramists of modern Japan] (Kyoto: ­Kawara Shoten, 1997); and Todate Kazuko, Nihon kin-gendai tōgeishi [History of ­modern-contemporary Japanese ceramics] (Tokyo: Abe Shuppan, 2016). 10 In this essay I am using the term Euro-American in line with Clark’s use of ­Euramerican in Modern Asian Art, 12.

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  15 11 Moeran, Folk Art Potteries of Japan, 140–80. 12 A discovery in 2012 in Jiangxi Province, China, was made of shards dating to 20,000 years old, 200 years earlier than previous finds in China and Japan. See Xiaohong Wu et al., “Early Pottery at 20,000 Years Ago in Xianrendong Cave, China,” Science 336, no. 6089 (June 29, 2012): 1696–1700. 13 Inaga, “Modern Japanese Arts and Crafts Around Kyoto: From Asai Chū to Yagi Kazuo, with Special Reference to their Contact with the West (1900–1954),” in Inaga and Fister, Traditional Japanese Arts and Crafts, 47. 14 In recent years, the word kōgei has been used in English in titles of exhibitions and in other English-language sources referring to Japanese craft. Its usage suggests an implication that Japanese craft has properties distinct from craft in other parts of the world. 15 Satō, “Nihon bijutsu” tanjō: kindai Nihon no “kotoba” to senryaku, 54. For an analysis of “bijutsu,” “kōgei,” and “bijtusu kōgei” as defined in the Meiji era, see Satō, Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State: The Politics of Beauty, 67–72. 16 Satō, “Nihon bijutsu” tanjō, 54. 17 Ibid., 55–56. 18 Mori, Nihon “kōgei” no kindai. Also see Kikuchi, “The Craft Debate at the Crossroads of Global Visual Culture.” 19 Kitazawa Noriaki, “Purorōgu—‘kōgei’ shinpojiumu kirokushū no kankō ni atatte,” in Kōgei shinpojiumu kirokushū henshū iinkai, ed., Bijutsushi no yohaku ni, 6. 20 Peter Weibel, “Globalization and Contemporary Art,” in Hans Belting, Andrea Buddensieg, and Peter Weibel, eds., The Global Contemporary and the Rise of New Art Worlds, 21, 25. 21 Kōgei to nashonarizumu no kindai, 2–3. 22 Modern Asian Art, 25. 23 When Was Modernism, 288. 24 For example, see Shoji Hamada at Scripps College, California (1953), produced by Richard Petterson, and The Art of the Potter (1971), produced by David Outerbridge and Sidney Reichman; both of these films are in the Mingei Film Compendium of Marty Gross Film Productions, Inc. Also see Living Arts of Japan (1960), which was sponsored by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan and produced by Sakura Motion Picture Co., Ltd. 25 Clark, Modern Asian Art, 14. 26 Varley, Japanese Culture, 237–8. 27 See Yamada, “The Export-oriented Industrialization of Japanese Pottery.” 28 It should also be noted that in 1889, at the opening of the Tokyo School of Fine Arts, bijutsu kōgei (art craft) was taught alongside courses in painting and sculpture, but bijutsu kōgei courses were limited to metalwork and lacquer. This meant that, at least in the first part of the twentieth century, it was not ceramics but metalwork and lacquer that garnered distinction as the most vanguard artistic craft mediums, as Gisela Jahn describes in her essay. 29 See Pollard, Master Potter of Meiji Japan: Makuzu Kōzan (1842–1916) and his Workshop. 30 Kaneko, Gendai tōgei no zōkei shikō, 13. 31 Imitation and Creativity in Japan. 32 See, for example, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, Japanese Crossing Borders—Asia as Dreamed by Craftspeople, 1910s–1945. Tokyo: National ­Museum of Modern Art, 2012. 33 See Ajioka Chiaki, “When Craft Became Art: Modern Japanese Craft and the Mingei Sakka” in Inaga and Fister, 211–27.

16  Meghen Jones 34 Brian Moeran borrows Veblen’s term “honorific consumption” to refer to the practice by members of industrialized societies of purchasing handmade goods that are, to quote Veblen, “more serviceable for the purpose of pecuniary respectability; hence the marks of hand labour come to be honorific, and the goods which exhibit these marks take rank as of a higher grade than the corresponding machine product.” Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class (Allen and Unwin, 1925), 159, quoted in Moeran, “Japanese Ceramics and the Discourse of ‘Tradition,’” 223. 35 Impey and Seaman, Japanese Decorative Arts of the Meiji Period, 1868–1912, 6. 36 See, for example, Bischoff and van Campen, Chinese and Japanese Porcelain for the Dutch Golden Age. 37 Kida, “Traditional Art Crafts,” 21. Kida cites the statement of Satō Kaoru, “Sugatanaki kokuhō no hogo” (The Protection of “Formless National Treasures”), Nihon bunkazai I (May 1955). 38 Nihon kōgei (Oct. 1, 1955), repr. in Uchiyama Takeo, “The Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition: Its History and Spirit,” in Rousmaniere, Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan, 28.

References Baekeland, Frederick. Modern Japanese Ceramics in American Collections. New York: Japan Society, 1993. Belting, Hans, Andrea Buddensieg, and Peter Weibel, eds., The Global Contemporary and the Rise of New Art Worlds. Karlsruhe: ZKM/Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe; Cambridge, Mass. and London: MIT Press, 2013. Bischoff, Cordula and Jan van Campen. Chinese and Japanese Porcelain for the Dutch Golden Age. Zwolle: Waanders Uitgevers, 2014. Clark, John. Modern Asian Art. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1998. Cort, Louise Allison. “Women in the Realm of Clay,” in Soaring Voices: Contemporary Japanese Women Ceramic Artists, 68–73. Shigaraki, Japan: Tōgei no Mori, 2007. Impey, Oliver and Joyce Seaman. Japanese Decorative Arts of the Meiji Period, 1868–1912. Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2005. Inaga Shigemi and Patricia Fister, eds., Traditional Japanese Arts and Crafts in the 21st Century: Reconsidering the Future from an International Perspective. Kyoto: International Research Centre for Japanese Studies, 2005. Kaneko Kenji. Gendai tōgei no zōkei shikō [Formative theories of contemporary ceramics]. Tokyo: Abe Shuppan, 2001. Kapur, Geeta. When Was Modernism: Essays on Contemporary Cultural Practice in India. New Delhi: Tulika, 2000. Kida Takuya. Kōgei to nashoanarizumu no kindai: “Nihon-tekina mono” no sōshutsu [The modernity of craft and nationalism: the creation of “Japanese-style” things]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2014. ———. “‘Traditional Art Crafts (Dentō Kōgei)’ in Japan: From Reproductions to Original Works,” The Journal of Modern Craft 3, no. 1 (2015): 19–35. Kikuchi, Yuko. “The Craft Debate at the Crossroads of Global Visual Culture: Re-centering Craft in Postmodern and Postcolonial Histories,” World Art 5, no.1 (2015): 87–115. Kōgei shinpojiumu kirokushū henshū iinkai, ed., Bijutsushi no yohaku ni: kōgei arusu gendai bijutsu [At the margins of art history: craft, ars, and modern art]. Tokyo: Bigaku Shuppan, 2008.

Potter’s paradise: Ceramics in modern Japan  17 Lucken, Michael. Imitation and Creativity in Japanese Arts: From Kishida Ryūsei to Miyazaki Hayao. Translated by Francesca Simkin. New York: Columbia University Press, 2016. Moeran, Brian. Folk Art Potters of Japan: Beyond an Anthropology of Aesthetics. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1997. ———. “Japanese Ceramics and the Discourse of ‘Tradition,’ ” Journal of Design History 3, no. 4 (1990): 213–25. Mori Hitoshi. Nihon“kōgei” no kindai: bijutsu to dezain no botai to shite [The modernity of Japanese “craft”: the foundation of fine art and design]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2009. Pollard, Clare. Master Potter of Meiji Japan: Makuzu Kōzan (1842–1916) and his Workshop. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Rousmaniere, Nicole, ed. Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan: Celebrating Fifty Years of the Exhibition of Japanese Art Crafts. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2007. Satō Dōshin. Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State: The Politics of Beauty. Translated by Nara Hitoshi. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2011. ———. “Nihon bijutsu” tanjō: kindai Nihon no “kotoba” to senryaku [The birth of “Japanese Art”: The “language” and strategy of modern Japan]. Tokyo: Kodansha, 1996. Todate Kazuko. Nihon kingendai tōgeishi [Modern/contemporary Japanese ceramics history]. Tokyo: Abe Shuppan, 2016. Varley, Paul. Japanese Culture. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004. Winther-Tamaki, Bert. “Yagi Kazuo: The Admission of the Nonfunctional ­Object into the Japanese Pottery World,” Journal of Design History 12, no. 2 (1999): 129–41. Wu, Xiaohong, Chi Zhang, Paul Goldberg, David Cohen, Yan Pan, Trina Arpin, and Ofer Bar-Yosef. “Early Pottery at 20,000 Years Ago in Xianrendong Cave, China,” Science 336, no. 6089 (June 29, 2012): 1696–1700. Yamada, Takehisa. “The Export-oriented Industrialization of Japanese Pottery: The Adoption and Adaptation of Overseas Technology and Market Information,” in Masayuki Tanimoto, ed. The Role of Tradition in Japan’s Industrialization: Another Path to Industrialization. Vol. 2, 217–40. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Yanagi Sōetsu. Two Essays. Helena, Montana: Archie Bray Foundation, [1952] 1983.

Part I

2 Tradition, modernity, and national identity Celadon production at the Makuzu ceramic workshop 1870–1916 Clare Pollard The Meiji era (1868–1912) was a time of momentous change for Japanese ceramics. The fall of the Tokugawa government soon after the opening of Japan to the West in the mid-nineteenth century brought an end to the traditional system of feudal patronage and caused initial disruption, as many potters accustomed to a guaranteed outlet for tried-and-tested products struggled to survive. However, the period also brought new commercial opportunities, new technical possibilities, and a new artistic freedom for Japanese potters. Japan’s new government quickly realized that rapid modernization and industrialization were essential in order to achieve parity with the West after the humiliating conditions imposed upon Japan by the Western powers in the 1850s. As part of its policies of “cultural enlightenment (bunmei kaika),” the Meiji government strongly encouraged manufacturing industry and overseas trade, and in the early years of the Meiji era ceramics and other decorative arts were promoted as important export items. The Western craze for Japanese exotica following the “discovery” of Japan in the mid-1800s gave rise to a new trade in mass-produced ceramics specifically designed for export, while encounters with novel Western techniques and styles stimulated the manufacture of many original and high-quality wares aimed at a more sophisticated, connoisseurs’ market, both in Japan and abroad. Meanwhile, Japanese potters were also coming to terms with unfamiliar Western concepts regarding the status and function of ceramics. The period also saw a growing concern with Japan’s own classical artistic heritage, with an emphasis on the importance of drawing upon the old in the quest for new ways forward. The late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries was therefore an important transition period that laid the foundations for the emergence of modern Japanese ceramics. One of the most successful ceramic workshops of the Meiji era was the Makuzu pottery (fig. 2.1), established in Yokohama in 1870 by Miyagawa Kōzan I (1842–1916) and continued by his successors until its final demise shortly after the end of World War II.

22  Clare Pollard

Figure 2.1  The Makuzu workshop, ca. 1886.  From Fukamachi Dōhanjo, ­Yokohama shokaisha shoten no zu, ca. 1883–91.

Miyagawa Kōzan had been born into a family of Kyoto potters who produced tea wares for the domestic market, but, soon after the Meiji Restoration of 1868, he boldly moved 400 kilometers east to the newly opened port of Yokohama in order to set up a workshop manufacturing enameled Satsuma-style earthenwares for the Western market. Over the next 50 years, as foreign tastes changed, new technology was introduced, and attitudes to ceramics evolved, the Makuzu workshop constantly adapted and updated its output, developing an extraordinarily broad range of ceramics for both domestic and export markets. The workshop was not only prolific but also highly successful, winning numerous awards at the national and international exhibitions that flourished at the time. It thus provides an excellent

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  23 case study to examine the wider world of Meiji ceramics, where potters were feeling their way from the remnants of a traditional, feudal operational system to the beginnings of a modern ceramic industry, struggling en route to come to terms with changing notions of what ceramics should be. Studies of the Makuzu workshop have focused mainly on the nature of its interactions with the West, with less attention paid to circumstances surrounding the production of ceramics in Chinese styles.1 Yet the latter clearly played a key role in the studio’s development. A newspaper obituary written shortly after Miyagawa Kōzan’s death in May 1916 declared that the potter was most highly regarded for Asian-style ceramics such as Ninsei-, Kenzan-, and gosu akae enameled “Swatow”-style works, and that he personally valued this kind of understated and refined work for the domestic market (Nihon muki no shizunda gachi ni tonda mono) over his showier (keba kebashii) works for the foreign market. The article makes little distinction between Chinese and Japanese classical styles, setting them together in opposition to Western-style works, but mentions that Kōzan especially prided himself on the celadon works he produced in his final years, which he considered “his life’s achievement (isshō no seikō wa seiji-yaki).”2 For centuries the arts of East Asia—especially of China—had been revered by Japanese collectors and had provided models for Japanese artists. Celadon epitomized this trend. The term “seiji”—literally “green porcelain” or “greenware”—denoted a type of ceramics first made at the Yue kilns in China’s Zhejiang province in the Han dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE), and subsequently produced in a number of kilns in China and across much of East and Southeast Asia, where imported Chinese celadons also inspired local versions.3 Made of porcelain or stoneware with small amounts of reduced iron oxide included in the glaze or body, celadon was fired in a reducing atmosphere to produce its characteristic gray-green or blue-green glaze color. With its lustrous glaze and jade-like appearance it soon came to be admired for its aesthetic qualities and it was also widely believed to bear poison-detecting properties. Certain types of high-quality celadon were made for court use and elite consumption, such as the best examples made at the Chinese Longquan kilns in Zhejiang province and in Korea during the Goryeo dynasty (918–1392). From the ninth century onwards, first Yue celadons and then Longquan and Fujian province celadons were brought into Japan, where they were highly prized as symbols of the splendor and cultural sophistication of China. In the Muromachi period (1337–1573), Longquan celadon wares were particularly sought after by elite warriors and high-ranking Buddhist monks in Japan, especially within the context of formal tea drinking. The popularity of tea and tea utensils was closely tied to the broader phenomenon of karamono suki, or the taste for things Chinese: through the ownership, display, and preservation of karamono, Japanese collectors attempted to validate themselves and assimilate the cultural prestige of China.4 ­Korean Goryeo celadon was also imported into Japan from the twelfth century,

24  Clare Pollard becoming increasingly popular from the 1500s with the development of the wabi tea aesthetic. The wabi tea ceremony emphasized austerity, simplicity, and rusticity, and leading tea practitioners began to elevate tea wares from Korea and Japan to the same level as the ancient Chinese treasures. The regard for Chinese and Korean celadon in Japan also led to domestic imitations being made in the Seto region from the 1300s, while, from the seventeenth century, China-influenced celadon was produced at the Arita and Nabeshima kilns in Kyushu and at Sanda in Hyogo Prefecture, albeit in relatively small quantities. Celadon was produced at the Makuzu workshop for most of its history but different varieties of celadon represented different creative approaches at different times. By considering the Makuzu studio’s ongoing relationship with celadon—and with Asian ceramic traditions in general—this chapter attempts to illuminate the changing priorities of Japanese potters over the course of the Meiji era and thereby to gain a deeper understanding of ­Japan’s wider efforts to reposition itself within the hierarchy of nations, both Western and Asian, as part of the country’s drive towards modernity.

A new workshop for a new age Kōzan was well versed in a variety of traditional Chinese and Japanese decorative styles. When he took over the Kyoto family business in 1860, he continued the work of his father, Chōzō (1797–1860), who had produced matcha and sencha tea utensils that reflected the influence of his former master, the bunjin potter and painter Aoki Mokubei (1767–1833).5 The Goryeo ­c eladon-style tea bowl by Chōzō illustrated in fig. 2.2 is from a repertoire that ranged from Ninsei-style overglaze enamel stonewares to Kōchi ­fahua-style earthenware and Chinese ko-sometsuke-style porcelain. When Kōzan moved to the treaty port of Yokohama in 1870, however, he switched his focus to the production of enameled and relief-modeled Satsuma earthenwares. For a decade, elaborately decorated Makuzu ware sold well abroad and received gushing reviews at international exhibitions, while the traditional styles that had previously been the mainstays of the Makuzu pottery were sidelined. Kōzan claimed patriotic motives for his radical change in direction: the wish to adapt to the demands of a new era, to increase the honor and wealth of his country, and to achieve fame at home and abroad.6 Indeed, his progressive approach to ceramic manufacture at this time, with his establishment of a flourishing export business, his incorporation of new styles and techniques, and his enthusiastic participation in World’s Fairs may be seen to have epitomized the Meiji government’s modernizing policies. Yet the workshop’s initial focus on the Western market, motivated largely by commercial factors and patriotic idealism, did not imply a wholesale rejection of the past. In the mid-1880s, the demand for ornate Satsuma wares declined abroad and Makuzu wares were criticized for their crude

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  25

Figure 2.2  Miyagawa Chōzō, Korean-style celadon stoneware tea bowl with an inlaid design of cranes and clouds, ca. 1850s. 8.7 x 12.0 cm. Miyagawa Kōsai Collection.

appearance at home.7 In response, Kōzan handed over the running of the workshop to his son, Hanzan, who kept the family business afloat producing familiar Kenzan- and Ninsei-style ceramics for the domestic market. Kōzan meanwhile devoted himself entirely to improving and developing ceramic forms, glazes, and clay bodies, in an attempt to develop more marketable and more critically esteemed products. The next 20 years were a time of tremendous technical experimentation and artistic creativity for the Makuzu workshop, with the development of a variety of different glazed porcelain styles: some decorated with Westernizing pictorial designs and some inspired by Chinese originals of the Ming (1368–1644) and Qing (1644–1912) dynasties. Kōzan became a leading member of what was known to Western enthusiasts as the “Sinico-Japanese School,” alongside contemporary potters such as Seifū Yohei III (1851–1914) and Takemoto Hayata (1848–92).8 Kōzan became particularly renowned for his “transmutation” glazes (known in Chinese as yao bian, or “changing [of color] in the kiln”) (fig. 2.3).9 These transmutation wares were highly popular with Western audiences and it can be argued that they were made primarily in response to Western fashions and to Chinese-style porcelains made in the West. From the 1880s, Western interest had turned not only to Japan but also to China, in particular to flambé porcelains of the Qing dynasty, such as copper red “peachblow” and “oxblood” glazes. These had become more widely available as a

26  Clare Pollard

Figure 2.3  Miyagawa Kōzan, porcelain vase with copper red “peach-bloom” glaze, 1890s. 6.4 x 6.6 cm. Ashmolean Museum, EA1956.682, Gift of Sir ­Herbert and Lady Ingram.

result of greater diplomatic contact with China, the looting of the emperor’s Summer Palace in 1860, and China’s inclusion in international exhibitions. At the same time, however, Kōzan’s embracing of Chinese models reflected the flourishing state of Sino-Japanese cultural and commercial interaction during the early Meiji era. The leaders of the new Meiji government, who had all received a classical Chinese education under the Tokugawa regime, continued to look to China for their intellectual and moral framework, and numerous Chinese emissaries, traders, and literati were welcomed to Japan. Chinese-style sencha tea drinking and Chinese literati culture were highly fashionable and made an important impact on Japanese artists and intellectuals.10 Although Kōzan was not himself deeply involved in the world of sencha, his background in the literati center of Kyoto had certainly provided a grounding in Chinese culture that must have informed his later work. As well as inheriting the stylistic legacy of Aoki Mokubei, Kōzan had studied with the literati painter Chōkian Giryō (active 1854–60) as a child and was said to have had a lifelong interest in Chinese and Japanese antiques.11 Kōzan’s engagement with Chinese historical models from the 1880s—a key element of his attempts to improve his ceramics—can be seen to have followed the Confucian notion of onko chishin: looking to the past in order to gain new knowledge or understanding. This approach echoed contemporary government art policy: while busy encouraging engagement with Western technology, art officials also stressed the importance of Japan’s own artistic heritage as a source of national pride and international esteem,

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  27 actively implementing policies to support traditional art forms and to protect Japan’s cultural properties (including preserving shrines and temples and commissioning surveys of the artworks within them, with the finest “discovered” treasures illustrated in the magazine Kokka).12 Onko chishin was the guiding principle behind the Onchizuroku, a catalogue of export-oriented craft designs compiled by the government Design Bureau between 1878 and 1882 to encourage the incorporation of traditional designs—Chinese as well as Japanese—into new work for national and international exhibitions. That Kōzan was consciously implementing this approach is demonstrated by a reference in his personal biography that described a particular tenmoku glazed vase with a design of a dragon of 1891, for which he had “revisited the old to create something new (ko o atatamete, shin o dashite).”13 The drive to modernize Japanese ceramics was boosted by the enormous improvement in communications that took place during the Meiji era. The circulation of knowledge was accelerated by greater physical movement of potters and techniques within Japan and abroad; by a growing number of technical schools, research institutes, and art schools that fostered the development of new techniques; and by greater dissemination of information via newspaper articles and reports from exhibitions, and from journals of specialist art and ceramic societies. Kōzan was himself a member of several art groups, including the Japan Art Association (Nihon Bijutsu Kyōkai), set up in 1879 as the Dragon Pond Society (Ryūchikai). The goal of the Japan Art Association was to preserve and promote Japan’s traditional artistic heritage and at the same time to develop a form of “national art” that would demonstrate the high quality of Japanese artistic achievements.14 The Japan Art Association held regular exhibitions of old and new artworks, organized speaker meetings, and published a monthly journal, providing an excellent forum for the discussion of the latest debates of the international art world. In 1897, Matsuo Gisuke (1836–1902), co-founder of the art export company Kiryū Kōshō Kaisha, reflected on the Japan Art Association’s role in stimulating progress in artistic techniques and attitudes (gijutsu no shinpo, seishin no baiyō). He proudly gave as an example the achievements of members such as Kōzan and fellow Tokyo potter Takemoto Hayata. Matsuo recalled viewing a special display of Chinese ceramics organized by the Association in 1885 (from the collection of Yokohama-based journalist Frank Brinkley) together with the two potters and encouraging them to take inspiration from the works. Matsuo then related how Kōzan and Takemoto immediately began to transform their ceramics for the better, using the Association’s annual exhibitions as a showcase for their developing works before exhibiting to great acclaim at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893.15 While Takemoto displayed a group of a hundred Chinese-inspired monochrome porcelains at Chicago, Kōzan won a gold medal for a pair of large vases decorated in low relief with examples of historical Chinese and Japanese ceramics: one was decorated with 26 specimens of cups, jars, vases, tea bowls, and lidded vessels from Japan, in styles that included Hirado white

28  Clare Pollard porcelain, Imari enameled porcelain and Awata enameled stoneware; the other depicted 27 Chinese works, such as a figure of Guanyin and a porcelain vessel decorated with a pattern of prunus in ice.16 Kōzan’s Chicago vases epitomized the aims of the Japanese exhibition organizers to use art exhibits to demonstrate Japan’s sophisticated civilization. From the beginning of the Meiji era, the Japanese government had promoted Japanese involvement in international exhibitions, seeing them as an excellent opportunity to impress other countries with the quality of Japanese products, to acquire knowledge of Western technology, to expand its trade, and to win awards that would bring Japan international acclaim and thereby enhance the country’s growing sense of national identity. Participation at Chicago was seen as an opportunity to demonstrate to the world powers the great progress Japan had made in the decades since the Meiji Restoration, despite its continued failure to ratify the “unequal treaties.”17 Kōzan’s vases were among a number of Japanese exhibits selected to be displayed in the fine art section of the exhibition. This was the first time any Japanese exhibits had been shown as fine art, rather than as decorative arts or “manufactures,” a development that was seen as a measure of civilization and therefore a matter of national prestige—especially as Japan was the only Asian nation to be included in the Palace of Fine Art. In the exhibition rubric the Japanese commissioners had insisted that only “truly Japanese” objects would be displayed; in this light it is interesting that Kōzan chose to depict classical Chinese as well as Japanese ceramics, implying that China was considered part of Meiji art heritage. The Chicago vases reflected the shifting Japanese attitudes towards China from the 1890s. As Japan was establishing itself as a modern nation state on a par with Europe and the United States, China was facing growing social unrest and political instability. Japan’s idealistic view of the glories of Chinese history and culture became increasingly difficult to reconcile with contemporary political realities, and political reformers such as Fukuzawa Yukichi argued for a “de-Asianization” of Japan and an alignment with Western powers. Yet despite anti-Qing political sentiment, Chinese art and culture were still viewed positively. However, Chinese cultural symbols were no longer appreciated from a desire to claim the moral virtue and prestige of an elite culture but appropriated as a means of helping Japan to construct its own national identity vis-à-vis the West—absorbed into a new East Asian art that could stand confidently in opposition to Western civilization.18

Celadon production at the Makuzu workshop It was against this shifting backdrop that celadon wares became a more prominent part of the Makuzu workshop. Initially, Kōzan used celadon simply for its striking color, as a background to pictorial designs in underglaze polychrome porcelains. The first documented appearance of “seiji” celadon as a product of the Makuzu pottery seems to have been at the Fourth National Industrial Exhibition held in Kyoto in 1895. Here Kōzan won the

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  29 top merit award in the exhibition’s art category for a vase with a celadon body and a design of red and white irises in relief.19 In the exhibition report, the eminent art critic Shioda Makoto praised the vase as being refined and elegant, a piece to bring honor to Japan on the foreign market (gaishutsu shite kokkō o hassuru), but at the same time recommended that in such a rapidly progressing world Kōzan should not rest on his laurels.20 The iris vase, like much of Kōzan’s work at this time, seems to respond to the current Western fashion for underglaze pictorial ceramic decoration using naturalistic designs of plants, fishes, and landscapes. These were often inspired by Japanese motifs and demonstrate the complex relationship that existed at the time between Japan and the West in terms of stylistic influence: as Japan was striving to emulate the “civilized” West, Europe at the height of Japonisme was looking to the East for its artistic inspiration. Potteries such as the Royal Copenhagen Porcelain Manufactory in Denmark and the Rookwood Pottery in Cincinnati in the USA were winning the highest awards at the international exhibitions for porcelains in this style and Japanese potters striving to be at the forefront of ceramic design were keen to emulate them. Indeed, it may be no coincidence that the aforementioned iris vase appeared shortly after Miyagawa Hanzan visited the Rookwood Pottery, which was in the process of developing a pastel-colored glaze line called “Iris.”21 As time went on, however, celadon took on a different significance within the Makuzu workshop, reflecting the changing relationship between Japan and its Asian neighbors. In the 1890s Kōzan became acquainted with the art historian, critic, and educator Okakura Kakuzō (1862–1913) and would have been aware of Okakura’s ideas about a “third belt” of art expression that envisaged modern Japanese art as a fusion of Japanese, Asian, and Western elements into an ultimately Japanese whole.22 Okakura saw Kōzan as epitomizing his ideas about Japanese art and later cited Kōzan, along with Takemoto Hayata and Seifū Yohei, as models of artistic excellence for their lively interpretation of the Chinese ceramic tradition.23 In 1895 Kōzan was appointed to the position of Imperial Household Artist (Teishitsu gigeiin), the highest official accolade for artists and craftsmen in the Meiji era. The system was established in 1888 “to promote the country’s arts, preserve old crafts, refine modern craftsmanship, and encourage younger generations”; it granted stipends to designated artists in return for their producing commissioned works of art.24 Imperial Household Artists were expected to make work that represented Japanese traditional culture and to send their designs to the imperial household for approval before objects were created. Kōzan’s appointment can only have made him more conscious of his role as an ambassador for the Japanese ceramic world. When asked by the imperial household to create an exhibit for the Paris Exposition Universelle in 1900, for instance, he responded by producing a pair of lidded jars, one with a design of chrysanthemums in low relief with yellow glaze and one with a design of paulownia leaves with green, or “celadon,” glaze (described as both seiyūsai and seiji) (fig. 2.4, bottom left and right).

Figure 2.4  Miyagawa Kōzan, porcelain exhibits at Paris Exposition Universelle, 1900.  Thomson 1901: 283. © Bodleian Library.

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  31 These were specifically described as “Japanese-style” (Nihon-shiki) and the flower motifs were chosen for their association with the Japanese imperial household, although the form and the monochrome glazes were ­distinctly Chinese in concept, as was the scrolling leaf-patterned decoration. It is notable that in the original design for the vases submitted to the imperial household in 1897, this pattern was described as karakusa (“Chinese plant”) but was altered the following year in Kōzan’s re-submitted plan to the more Japanese-sounding tsurukusa (“creeping plant”).25 As at Chicago, Kōzan was referring to prestigious Chinese models to create a work of art intended to express not only artistry but Japanese-ness. He won a grand prix for this and other exhibits, which were praised by the Paris judges for the way they demonstrated an awareness of Western design without sacrificing their ­Japanese “essence.”26 In stark contrast, exhibits by many other Japanese potters were severely criticized for their poor production standards, impracticality, limitations of form, mediocre design, and over-elaborate ornamentation in comparison with European decorative art made under the influence of the Art Nouveau style.27 The ceramic painter Kawahara Noritatsu, speaking to the Japan Art Association in 1901 about his experiences as a judge for the crafts section at the Paris exposition, remarked that for the first time ever at an international exhibition Japan had been treated on equal terms with the other participants. As a judge at the earlier Paris exposition of 1878, Kawahara had noted how Japan had been treated as a “child.” The Japanese victory in the Sino-Japanese War in 1895, however, and the eventual ratification of the “unequal treaties” in 1898, had greatly enhanced Japan’s standing in the world arena and by 1900 she was regarded as having joined the ranks of the “adults.” Once a remote and backward country deemed worthy of reward purely for its admirable efforts, Japan was now a major world power no longer thought deserving of such indulgence.28 While Japanese art of all kinds had been the height of fashion during the decades of the “Japan Craze” in Europe and the United States, by the early 1900s it was no longer a novelty, and was appraised more critically. The poor Japanese performance at Paris in 1900 sparked intense debate in Japanese art journals and the press about the future of the nation’s ceramic industry. During the Edo period (1615–1868), Japanese decorative arts (kōgei/kōgyō) had been regarded as on a par with the so-called “fine arts (bijutsu),” but the early Meiji period saw the wholesale introduction of Western art historical taxonomies and the official categorization of sculpture and painting above the decorative arts. The terms used to describe these new categories were highly ambiguous and many potters were uncertain how to apply them. Craftsmen tended to confuse artistic quality with technical virtuosity. In the rubric for the Paris exposition, Hayashi Tadamasa, president of the Japanese exhibition committee, outlined the concept of “fine artworks” (bijutsuhin), stating that exhibits for the art section should be based on principles of pure aesthetics and be an expression of the artist’s

32  Clare Pollard own personal design and technical skill. The overall poor performance of Japan’s artworks in Paris, despite these guidelines, stimulated a demand not only for design improvements but also for more clarity over the distinction between art and industrial ceramics. As active members of the Meiji art world, the Makuzu potters would have been caught up in these discussions, especially as Hanzan had attended the Paris exposition as a representative of Kanagawa Prefecture and would have been fully aware of the less than whole-hearted reception of Japanese exhibits in general and of the dramatic progress in Western ceramics. Although Makuzu ceramics were made by division of labor in a large workshop setting and commercial factors were a driving force in determining output, it seems that Kōzan himself aspired to be an artist potter, who aimed to create what was described in 1906 by his workshop manager as “true artworks” (shin no bijutsuhin) rather than mass-produced export ware.29 It was shortly after the Paris exposition that Kōzan began to produce the type of “seiji-yaki” that he referred to as his “life’s achievements” (figs. 2.5–2.7). With their blue-green glazes and in some cases carved designs, these works are clearly inspired by Longquan celadons and are apparently aimed mainly at the domestic market;30 the forms are mostly traditional Asian shapes, including incense burners, incense containers, sencha Chinese tea

Figure 2.5  Miyagawa Kōzan, Longquan celadon-style vase with a design of peonies in low relief, presented to the Imperial Museum (now Tokyo National Museum) by Kōzan to commemorate the coronation of Emperor Taisho, 1912. Porcelain with celadon glaze, H. 35.8 cm. Tokyo National Museum.

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  33

Figure 2.6  Miyagawa Kōzan, incense burner in the shape of a shishi lion dog, 1905– 1910. Porcelain with celadon glaze, H. 16.8 cm. Gift of Lieutenant-­ Colonel Kenneth Dingwall DSO through The Art Fund (purchased at the Japan-British Exhibition). © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

wares, and cake dishes for the Japanese tea ceremony, as well as some large, formal vases of the type typically shown at exhibitions or created as one-off presentation pieces. In practical terms, it seems to have been particularly hard to achieve a flawless result for celadon glazes. The metalworker Kagawa Katsuhiro, writing shortly after his friend Kōzan’s death in 1916, records that Kōzan experienced severe difficulties before perfecting his celadon wares.31 Surviving glaze notes from 1909 and 1913–16 show numerous celadon glaze tests, suggesting that glaze recipes were constantly being refined and improved. This technical challenge may have added to Kōzan’s sense of celadon’s being the pinnacle of a potter’s achievement. However, it is the classical prestige of celadon that seems key to these late Makuzu works. Beautiful green, jade-like celadon, prized for centuries by connoisseurs in China and Korea as well as in Japan, may have represented truly “artistic” qualities to Kōzan—a sense of timeless prestige and classic quality befitting an Imperial Household Artist and aptly expressing Japanese newfound cultural confidence. With J­ apan’s victory in the Sino-Japanese War of 1904–05 and expanding Japanese interests in Korea, China, and Southeast Asia the sense of national pride in a strong Japan at the center of a dynamic Asia continued to grow, along with a renewed

34  Clare Pollard

Figure 2.7  Miyagawa Kōzan, sencha tea set, 1912–1916.  Porcelain with celadon glaze, teapot 9.0 x 13.5  cm, cups 5.0 x 8.0 cm. Private collection, on loan to the Miyagawa Kōzan Makuzu Museum.

interest in the artistic heritage of Japan and its Asian neighbors. The Makuzu workshop was not alone in its emphasis on celadon; indeed the glaze became the focus of a number of leading “artist potters” of the late Meiji and Taisho eras (1912–26), including Miyanaga Tōzan I (1868–1941), Suwa Sozan I (1851– 1922), Suwa Sozan II (1890–1978), and Uno Ninmatsu (1864–1937).32 Where the tomobako storage boxes survive for Kōzan’s late celadons, they are described in the hakogaki box inscriptions—added by Kōzan himself or in some cases by his successor Hanzan—as “seiji-i” or “i-seiji-yū-i,”

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  35 meaning “inspired by” or “based on” celadon or celadon glazes, thus clearly acknowledging his debt to historical examples. In the years preceding the fall of the Qing dynasty in 1912, large quantities of Chinese paintings, ceramics, and other works of art arrived in Japan in search of a market, leading to a “rediscovery” of Chinese art among collectors and connoisseurs. It is worth noting that in 1907 Kōzan opened an antique business selling old Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Southeast Asian ceramics, metalwork, and paintings. The inaugural inventory of the company lists a number of celadon pieces, both Chinese (type not specified) and Japanese (Nabeshima and Sanda wares), which Kōzan may have used as models. However, the Makuzu versions are not simply copies of classical works, but subtly adapted interpretations that used historical motifs, forms, and techniques as a source of inspiration for original artistic expression, much like the honkadori of Japanese classical poetry, whereby lines or phrases of classical verse were incorporated or alluded to in new poems.33 An exploration of the changing significance of celadon in the work of Miyagawa Kōzan highlights some of the wider trends within the Japanese ceramic industry of the time.34 As Japan sought to establish itself as a modern nation state in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Japanese potters were seeking to adapt to a rapidly changing world: navigating the tensions between change and continuity; between patriotic idealism and commercial pragmatism; between the assimilation of Western cultural values and the preservation of Eastern cultural identity; and between artistic and industrially oriented approaches to the future of Japanese ceramic production. Kōzan’s celadon works epitomized evolving notions of Meiji modernity. Until the mid-nineteenth century celadon had been appreciated in Japan for its prestigious association with the elite cultures of China and Korea. For a while during the period of intense Westernization in the early Meiji era celadon took a back stage except as part of experiments to adapt to Western taste. Yet even as makers like Kōzan were looking to the West for commercial, technical, and artistic direction, so too they were becoming increasingly aware of their own artistic traditions (including the art of Asia) and sought to develop art forms that reflected Japan’s increasingly prominent position as a leader of Asia on the world stage. By the turn of the century celadon was being adapted as a new “third way” of art combining the best elements of East and West; and by the early twentieth-century adaptations of classical Asian-style celadons had come to represent a form of modern Japanese artistic expression.

Notes 1 See for instance Emerson-Dell, Bridging East and West; Nikaidō, Yokohama Bijutsukan sōsho, 7; and Pollard, Master Potter of Meiji Japan. The catalogue accompanying the 2016 Miyagawa Kōzan retrospective exhibition, Hattori Fumitaka, ed., Botsugo 100-nen Miyagawa Kōzan (Tokyo: NHK Puromōshon, 2016), however, included an essay on Kōzan’s Chinese-style porcelains by ­Degawa Tetsurō entitled “Miyagawa Kōzan to Chūgoku tōji,” 226–30.

36  Clare Pollard 2 Anon., “Kōzan-ō yuku,” Yokohama bōeki shinpō, 5449 (May 23, 1916). 3 For an overview of celadon in Asia, see New Taipei City Yingge Ceramics ­Museum, ed., Ambient Green Flow: The Emergence and Rise of East Asian Celadon (Ancient Celadon) (Taipei: New Taipei City Yingge Ceramics Museum, 2011). 4 See Rousmaniere, Vessels of Influence, 84–86. She gives as an example the Longquan celadon tea bowl known as “Bakōhan,” made in Song China and said to have been presented in 1175 to the courtier Taira no Shigemori. It was later owned by the Ashikaga shogun Yoshimasa (1435–90) and subsequently handed down within the Suminokura family before being acquired by the industrialist collector Mitsui Takashi. 5 We know, for instance, that he produced sencha Chinese tea wares that were said to be popular with both the imperial court and with representatives of the Tokugawa government. See Anon., “Kōgei shiryō: Miyagawa Kōzan (Makuzuyaki),” part 1 of 2, Kyoto Bijutsu Kyōkai zasshi, 1 (July 10, 1892), 11. 6 Ibid., 11. Also Oka Ochiba, “Miyagawa Kōzan-ō o tou,” part 2 of 2, Bijutsu shinpō (September 1911), 358. 7 Miyagawa Hanzan, “Kōzan to tōki no ryūkō,” Shoga kottō zasshi, 54 (November 1912), 45 and F. Brinkley, “A History of Japanese Ceramics,” The Chrysanthemum, 3, no. 6 (1883), 271. 8 Brinkley, Japan Its History, Arts and Literature: Keramic Art, 421. 9 Scidmore, “The Porcelain-Artists of Japan,” 86, and Frank Brinkley, Artistic ­Japan at Chicago: Porcelains (Yokohama: Japan Mail, ca. 1893), 29–30; both describe Makuzu “transmutation” wares in some detail. See also Pollard, 57–62. 10 See Maezaki, “Meiji Ceramics for the Japanese Domestic Market,” 47–58. 11 Oka, 357. 12 Snodgrass, “Exhibiting Meiji Modernity,” 81–82. See also Foxwell, Making Modern Japanese-Style Painting, 177, on the Meiji government’s “attempt to suture the rift between past and present,” and Nara, Inexorable Modernity, 73–74. 13 Miyagawa Kōzan, “Rirekisho,” MS, ca. 1899. 14 Buckland, Painting Nature for the Nation, 109. 15 Matsuo Gisuke, “Zatsuroku: Bijutsu kōgeihin no yushutsu ni tsuite,” Nihon Bijutsu Kyōkai Hōkoku, 76 (April 1894), 77–79. 16 Miyagawa Kōzan, “Rirekisho” and Oka, 27. 17 See Snodgrass, 75–100, and Conant, “Japan ‘Abroad’ at the Chicago Exposition, 1893,” 254–80. 18 For discussions of changing Japanese attitudes to China in relation to painting, see Buckland, Painting Nature for the Nation, and Guth, “Meiji Response to Bunjinga,” 177–96. 19 Miyagawa Kōzan, “Rirekisho.” 20 Shioda Makoto, “Dai jūrui, sono ichi: tōjiki,” (Tokyo: Meiji Bunken Shiryō Kankōkai, 1973), 38. 21 Pollard, 66–68. 22 In 1898 Kōzan joined Okakura Kakuzō’s Japan Art Institute (Nihon Bijutsuin), which sought to promote traditional Japanese painting styles, becoming vice-president in 1899 and helping to organize an exhibition for the Institute in Yokohama the following year. Yoshida Kōzō, “Miyagawa Kōzan to sono jidai,” in Gendai tōgei no akebono, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1985), 124. 23 In The Ideals of the East, for instance, Okakura praises “the wonderful glaze of Kōzan [that] is not only reviving the lost secrets of early Chinese ceramics, but creating new, Kōrin-like dreams of colour.” See Okakura Kakuzō, The Ideals of the East (1904) (Rutland, Vt. and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1977), 234. See also Okakura Kakuzō, The Awakening of Japan (New York: Japan Society, Inc., 1921), 196. 24 Satō, “Imperial Household Artists,” 93.

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  37 25 Okamoto Takashi, “Miyagawa Kōzan’s works at the Paris International Exposition,” Annual Report of Sannomaru Shōzōkan, vol. 17 (April 2010–March 2011), 49–60. 26 Georges Vogt, ed., Exposition Universelle Internationale de 1900 à Paris. Rapports du Jury International, Groupe XII—Décoration et mobilier des édifices publics et des habitations: Deuxième partie—classes 72 à 75 (Paris: Ministère du Commerce, de l’Industrie des Postes et des Télégraphes, 1901), 53. 27 Nōshōmusho, ed., Pari Bankoku Hakurankai rinji hakurankai jimukyoku hōkoku (Tokyo: Nōshōmusho, 1902), 491–92. 28 Kawahara Noritatsu, “Furansu Hakurankai ni tsuite,” Nihon Bijutsu Kyōkai hōkoku, 150 (April 1901), 45–57. 29 Anon, “Hōmon: Miyagawa Kōzan-ō,” part 2 of 2, Yokohama bōeki shinpō (­August 30, 1906). 30 Although celadons, to be had among the first porcelains to arrive in Europe in the fourteenth century, were highly prized for centuries and copied both in imitation Chinese glazes as at Meissen and in the form of colored clay bodies with pâte-sur-pâte decoration at potteries such as Sèvres, Minton, and Wedgewood, by the second half of the nineteenth century celadon was no longer a novelty and was less in demand. 31 Kagawa Katsuhiro, “Yukeru Miyagawa Kōzan-ō,” Chūo bijutsu, 2, no. 7 (July 1916), 69. “Hōmon: Miyagawa Kōzan-ō,” mentions a 70–80 percent failure rate of glazed porcelains in general at the workshop. 32 For a discussion of the re-evaluation of Chinese and Korean celadon in early twentieth-century Japan, see The Museum of the Imperial Collections, Sanno­ maru Shōzōkan, “Risō no seiji o motomete—saisei sareta chūgoku chōsen kotōji,” in Regeneration of the Classics—Challenges by the Artists (Tokyo: Sannomaru Shōzōkan, 2016), 22–23. 33 “Sakka-tachi ga idonda koten saisei,” in Kunaichō Sannomaru Shōzōkan, ed., Regeneration of the Classics—Challenges by the Artists, Sannomaru Shozokan tenrankai zuroku, no. 72 (Tokyo: Sannomaru Shōzōkan, 2016), 4–5. 34 Kōzan’s successor Hanzan continued to produce Chinese-style celadon, adding his own personal stamp in response to current fashions. While he often combined celadon glazes with Art Deco-influenced motifs and forms, he also produced inlaid celadon inspired by Korean Goryeo originals, reflecting a growing fascination among scholars, art collectors, and museum curators in Korea, ­Japan, and the West during the 1910s and 1920s. See Horlyck. “Desirable Commodities.” Celadon continued to be produced at the Makuzu studio until it was destroyed in a bombing raid in May 1945.

References Buckland, Rosina. Painting Nature for the Nation: Taki Katei and the Challenges to Sinophile Culture in Meiji Japan. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Brinkley, F. “A History of Japanese Ceramics.” The Chrysanthemum 3, no. 6 (1883): 261–72. Brinkley, Captain F. Japan, Its History, Arts and Literature: Keramic Art, viii. ­Boston and Tokyo: J.B. Millet Co., 1902. Brinkley, Frank. Artistic Japan at Chicago. Yokohama: Japan Mail, ca. 1893. Conant, Ellen. “Japan ‘Abroad’ at the Chicago Exposition, 1893.” In Challenging Past and Present: The Metamorphosis of Nineteenth-Century Japanese Art, edited by Ellen Conant, 254–80. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2006. Degawa Tetsurō. “Miyagawa Kōzan to Chūgoku tōji” [Miyagawa Kōzan and Chinese ceramics]. In Botsugo 100-nen Miyagawa Kōzan [Miyagawa Kōzan retrospective

38  Clare Pollard to celebrate the centenary of his death], edited by Hattori Fumitaka, 226–30. Tokyo, NHK Puromōshon, 2016). Emerson-Dell, Kathleen. Bridging East and West: Japanese Ceramics from the Kōzan Studio, Selections from the Perry Foundation. Baltimore: Walters Art Gallery, 1994. Foxwell, Chelsea. Making Modern Japanese-Style Painting: Kano Hōgai and the Search for Images. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015. Guth, Christine. “Meiji Response to Bunjinga.” In Challenging Past and Present: The Metamorphosis of Nineteenth-Century Japanese Art, edited by Ellen Conant, 177–96. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2006. “Hōmon: Miyagawa Kōzan-ō” [Visit to Miyagawa Kōzan]. Yokohama bōeki shinpō [Yokohama journal of commerce], 1906. “Hōmon: Miyagawa Kōzan-ō” [Visit to Miyagawa Kōzan], part 2 of 2. Yokohama bōeki shinpō [Yokohama journal of commerce], August 30, 1906. Horlyck, Charlotte. “Desirable Commodities—Unearthing and Collecting Koryŏ Celadon Ceramics in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 76, no. 3 (2013): 467–91. Kagawa Katsuhiro. “Yukeru Miyagawa Kōzan-ō” [In memory of Miyagawa Kōzan]. Chūo bijutsu [Central fine art] 2, no. 7 (July 1916): 69. Kawahara Noritatsu. “Furansu hakurankai ni tsuite” [The French exposition]. ­Nihon Bijutsu Kyōkai hōkoku [The Japan Art Association bulletin], 150 (April 1901): 45–57. Kimura Hideo. “Yokohama Makuzu-yaki ni yosete” [Approaching Makuzu ware]. Kanagawa Kenritsu Hakubutsukan dayori [Kanagawa Prefectural Museum News], 12, no. 4 (March 1980): 3–5. “Kōgei shiryō: Miyagawa Kōzan (Makuzu-yaki)” [Notes on the decorative arts: Miyagawa Kōzan (Makuzu Ware)], part 1 of 2. Kyoto Bijutsu Kyōkai zasshi [Journal of the Kyoto Fine Art Association] 1 (July 10, 1892): 9–13. “Kōzan-ō yuku” [Miyagawa Kōzan passes away]. Yokohama bōeki shinpō [Yokohama journal of commerce], no. 5449 (May 23, 1916). Kunaichō Sannomaru Shōzōkan, ed. Koten saisei—sakka-tachi no chōsen [Regeneration of the Classics—Challenges by the Artists, Sannomaru Shozokan tenrankai zuroku], no. 72. Tokyo: Museum of the Imperial Collections, Sannomaru Shōzōkan, 2016. Maezaki Shinya. “Meiji Ceramics for the Japanese Domestic Market: Sencha and Japanese Literati Taste.” Transactions of the Oriental Ceramic Society 74 ­(2009–10): 47–58. Matsuo Gisuke. “Zatsuroku: Bijutsu kōgeihin no yushutsu ni tsuite” [Miscellaneous records: Exports of decorative art wares]. Nihon bijutsu kyōkai hōkoku [The Japan Art Association bulletin] 76 (April 1894): 73–86. Miyagawa Hanzan. “Kōzan to tōki no ryūkō” [Kōzan and trends in ceramics]. Shoga kottō zasshi [Art and Curio magazine] 54 (November 1912): 45–46. Miyagawa Kōzan. “Rirekisho” [Personal History of Miyagawa Kōzan]. MS, ca. 1899. Nara, Hiroshi, ed. Inexorable Modernity: Japan’s Grappling with Modernity in the Arts. Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2007. New Taipei City Yingge Ceramics Museum, ed. Ambient Green Flow: The Emergence and Rise of East Asian Celadon (Ancient Celadon). Taipei: New Taipei City Yingge Ceramics Museum, 2011.

Celadon production at the Mazuku workshop  39 Nikaidō Mitsuru. Yokohama Bijutsukan sōsho [Yokohama Museum of Art publications], 7: Miyagawa Kōzan to Yokohama Makuzu-yaki [Miyagawa Kōzan and Makuzu ware from Yokohama]. Yokohama: Yūrindō, 2001. Nōshōmusho [Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce], ed. Pari Bankoku Hakurankai rinji hakurankai jimukyoku hōkoku [Report of the Paris International Exposition Preliminary Committee]. Tokyo: Nōshōmusho, 1902. Oka Ochiba. “Miyagawa Kōzan-ō o tou” [Visiting Miyagawa Kōzan], part 2 of 2, Bijutsu shinpō [Art News journal] (September 1911): 25–27. Okakura Kakuzō. The Ideals of the East (1904). Rutland, Vt. and Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1977. ———. The Awakening of Japan. New York: Japan Society, Inc., 1921. Okamoto Takashi. “Miyagawa Kōzan’s Works at the Paris International Exposition.” Annual Report of Sannomaru Shōzōkan 17 (April 2010–March 2011): 49–60. Pollard, Clare. Master Potter of Meiji Japan: Makuzu Kōzan (1842–1916) and his Workshop. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003. Rousmaniere, Nicole Coolidge. Vessels of Influence: China and the Birth of Porcelain in Medieval and Early Modern Japan. London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2012. Satō Dōshin. “Imperial Household Artists (Teishitsu gigeiin).” In Nihonga: Transcending the Past, edited by Ellen Conant, et al., 92–93. St. Louis and Tokyo: St Louis Art Museum and Japan Foundation, 1995. Scidmore, Eliza Ruhamah. “The Porcelain-Artists of Japan.” Harper’s Weekly XLII, no. 2144 (January 1898): 83–88. Shioda Makoto. “Dai jūrui, sono ichi: tōjiki” [Class 10, part 1: ceramics]. In Dai Yonkai Naikoku Kangyō Hakurankai shinsa hōkoku (jimukyoku). Dai ichibu: shichi, hachi [Fourth National Industrial Exhibition, Judges’ report. Section 1: 7, 8]. Reprinted in Meiji zenki sangyō hattatsushi shiryō: Kangyō Hakurankai shiryō [Historical records of industrial development in the early Meiji period: Historical records of the national industrial expositions] 90, edited by Fujiwara Masahito, 25–43. Tokyo: Meiji Bunken Shiryō Kankōkai, 1973. Snodgrass, Judith. “Exhibiting Meiji Modernity: Japanese Art at the Columbian Exposition.” East Asian History 31 (June 2006): 75–100. Vogt, Georges, ed. Exposition Universelle Internationale de 1900 à Paris. Rapports du Jury International, Groupe XII—Décoration et mobilier des édifices publics et des habitations: Deuxième partie—classes 72 à 75. Paris: Ministère du Commerce, de l’Industrie des Postes et des Télégraphes, 1902. Yoshida Kōzō. “Miyagawa Kōzan to sono jidai” [Miyagawa Kōzan and his age]. In Gendai tōgei no akebono [The birth of contemporary ceramics], vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1985), 123–25.

3 More than “Western” Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table Mary Redfern

The Meiji Restoration of 1868 and allied downfall of the shogunate heralded a new role for Japan’s emperor; while still somewhat distanced from actual political power, the emperor was visibly reinstated as sovereign ruler.1 A significant aspect of this role was played out at imperial banquets where the Meiji Emperor engaged with foreign dignitaries and Japanese elites. From 1873, many of these banquets were “Western” in style.2 The adoption of foreign dining practices required a new material culture of dining. To this end, the Imperial Household Ministry (Kunaishō) ordered porcelain dinner services in forms familiar from the tables of Europe and North America: broad dinner plates that accommodated knife and fork dining, compotes, tureens, and handled cups that perched upon matching saucers.3 Referred to as yōshokki or “Western tableware” in contemporary documents, these dining utensils were neither haphazardly chosen nor generically “Western.” Rather, close analysis reveals that these were complex objects strategically commissioned to articulate the sovereign identity of the Meiji Emperor. The reiterative processes by which identities are embodied, produced, and constructed can be considered in terms of performativity.4 While performance might only describe a single act, performativity has been defined as the citational repetition of cultural norms, but it also lends itself to more subversive behaviors, whereby the act of identification may subvert an established hegemony.5 As sovereign figurehead, the Meiji Emperor was expected to go on tours to the regions, meet with his ministers, and attend cabinet meetings—acts that identified Meiji as emperor before his citizens and government. He was also expected to dine with guests, foreign and Japanese.6 While unequal trading treaties signed with Europe and America continued to undermine Japan’s national standing, the emperor’s table became a locus for the performance of sovereign power. Performative in its adherence to form and etiquette, dining is also dependent on material things.7 This chapter takes as its focus two imperial dinner services: the dinner service with the imperial paulownia crest (fig. 3.1) and the dinner service with animals in vines (fig. 3.2). In material terms, these

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  41

Figure 3.1  Seiji Kaisha, lozenge-shaped dish with paulownia crest, ca. 1880–1889.  Porcelain with gilding, 26.0  x 14.0  x 3.4  cm. Private collection.

Figure 3.2  Seiji Kaisha, lozenge-shaped dish with animals in vines, ca. 1880–1889. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 26.5  x 14.0  x 3.7  cm. ­Momota Family Collection.

dinner services are not single entities, but assemblages that have been used, broken, replenished, and supplemented over the years. Both services have been made since the Meiji era by a succession of companies including Seiji Kaisha, Tsuji, Fukagawa Seiji, and Kōransha in Arita, a key center in the

42  Mary Redfern development of Japanese porcelain in the early seventeenth century and still a focus for this industry. Ordered by the Imperial Household Ministry, the dinner services discussed here were used at banquets that redefined the place of the emperor in Meiji era Japan. As Paul Gilroy has noted, while “identity-making has a history … its historical character is often concealed.”8 If identity is not only expressed, but also negotiated through objects, however, those objects may supply the evidence to expose such histories. Taking the view that the nature of imperial tableware, including aspects of its design and manufacture, may be read in part as a crystallization of the intent of its makers and commissioners, and that the adoption of foreign modes of dining was an act of appropriation rather than one of cultural capitulation, this chapter considers how these two dinner services were intended to support and shape the changing role and identity of the Meiji Emperor.

Setting the table Marshall Berman’s seminal work All That Is Solid Melts into Air defines modernity as a mode of experience that “pours us all into a maelstrom of perpetual disintegration and renewal, of struggle and contradiction, of ambiguity and anguish.”9 Revisiting these ideas in the preface to a later edition of this work, he further defines modernism “as any attempt by modern men and women to become subjects as well as objects of modernization, to get a grip on the modern world and make themselves at home in it.”10 The opening years of Japan’s Meiji era were a time of flux in which social and political territories were reorganized, as feudal domains (han) gave way to prefectures administered by bureaucrats. Even so, as Susan Hanley has argued, there was significant stability in people’s way of life, with change occurring only gradually for many.11 For Japan’s emperor, however, this was indeed a transformative moment, and one in which Berman’s words find strong resonance. While it is generally accepted that political power rested with the newly formed government, the Meiji Emperor took on a more public role than his Edo period (1615–1868) ancestors, receiving ambassadors and guests from foreign lands as sovereign figurehead. For theorists of the late Edo period who considered their emperor to be the elevated living descendant of the sun goddess, Amaterasu, such undertakings would have been unthinkable. Indeed, when the prospect of foreign audiences was raised in 1868, the Meiji Emperor’s mother, Nakayama Yoshiko, and a number of his courtiers were driven to despair.12 And yet, as John Breen has discussed, when the emperor received the British minister Sir Harry Parkes in the Shishinden (hall for state ceremonies) of the imperial palace in Kyoto in March of that year, he rose to his feet at Parkes’s third bow in accord with diplomatic protocols set at the Congress of Vienna.13 At the same time, the emperor’s

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  43 body also became the focus of imperial pageantry and public ceremonials, and Fujitani Takeshi has examined how these new ritual performances of national culture—invented traditions of the Meiji era—left traces in both cityscapes and collective memory.14 As a more private performance, the banquet fell outside Fujitani’s analysis. The role of dining in Japan’s mid-nineteenth-century diplomacy has however been taken up by William Steele, who notes that from 1873, Western-style banquets were regularly employed for the hosting of foreign dignitaries and diplomats.15 As historians, Breen, Fujitani, and Steele touch only lightly upon the role played by art and material culture. The objects of dining, and porcelain in particular, offer a body of evidence that might shed further light on the nuance of the strategies at play. A painted depiction of a banquet held to mark the Promulgation of J­ apan’s Constitution on February 11, 1889, reveals the extent of the investment made in court dining in the first half of the Meiji era (fig. 3.3). In the lofty Hōmeiden (banqueting hall) of the newly constructed Meiji Palace, 118 guests, including members of Japan’s military and ministerial elite and diplomatic representatives from overseas, are seated on chairs at tables set for dinner. In taking their seats, these guests are complicit in a performance that elevated the Meiji Emperor, seated at the head of the table. Menus detail that the banquet they shared included simmered beef with truffles, goose soup, turkey salad, and asparagus with sauce, followed by pineapple sorbet and a mold-made dessert known as macaron charlotte to finish.16 It is no surprise

Figure 3.3  Tokonami Masayoshi (1842–1897), Hōmeiden gobaishoku no zu (Imperial Banquet in the Hōmeiden), 1890.  Colors on silk, 68.8  x 123.3  cm. Collections of the Imperial Household Archives, Imperial Household Agency.

44  Mary Redfern that similar official banquets were described as European in every detail.17 In viewing this painting, however, it is immediately apparent that this banquet depended upon a host of material objects: furniture, linens, glassware, porcelain, and silver. Each of these objects has the potential to serve as a source of evidence, but among these manifold things, the porcelain tableware stands apart. As a material, porcelain has operated between cultures as readily as it was utilized by domestic elites. Having previously imported porcelain from China and Korea, Japan produced its own porcelain from the seventeenth century. Employed in the courts of the shogun and the emperor, Japanese porcelain was also shipped overseas where it graced the cabinets of the palaces of Europe and, alongside wares from China, stimulated the production of European porcelains that themselves became vital to acts of diplomacy and display.18 To consider glassware or cutlery in the Meiji era imperial court would be to examine a new material adoption, but porcelain tableware found its place on the tables of the emperors of the Edo period at much the same time that it penetrated European palaces. Resting upon the imperial tables of the Edo period and Meiji era, and already vital to court dining in Europe and Japan, porcelain offers a means to identify more nuanced processes of adaptation and negotiation within the imperial court of the Meiji era. Despite the vicissitudes of the intervening years, some Meiji era tableware has survived in the collections of Japan’s Imperial Household Agency. In 2000 and 2003, selected pieces from these collections were included in exhibitions held at the Sannomaru Shōzōkan (Museum of the Imperial Collections).19 The earlier of these exhibitions, Imperial Feasts: Modern Table Art (Kyōen: kindai no tēburu āto) focused exclusively on tableware for banquets in Western style. Drawing particular attention to the presence of ceramics made by the major Staffordshire firm Minton and perceived stylistic affinities towards Britain among the Japanese wares such as the naturalistic painting style of the service with animals in vines, the curator Ōkuma Toshiyuki argues that it was Britain—a nation with a monarch—that provided the model for Meiji era court dining.20 While I would agree that Britain offered one prototype for court dining, the spectrum of tableware developed for the court of the Meiji Emperor cannot be understood in such n ­ ation-bound terms. Shaped for either European or Japanese modes of dining, and decorated in various styles, the diversity of Meiji era imperial tableware suggests the potential of a fresh analysis. While the majority of these vessels were made in either Arita or Kyoto, in certain instances ceramic tableware was acquired from European makers. Indeed, it would not be feasible to discuss the full spectrum of ceramic tableware employed by the imperial court within a single chapter, and thus the decision to examine the designs of the two imperial dinner services—the dinner set with paulownia crest and the

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  45 dinner set with animals in vines. Recorded both in extant works and archival documents, these services have also enjoyed a conspicuous longevity within the court.21 The elevated compotes, dishes, and vessels that make up these two dinner sets were crafted alongside each other in the workshops of Seiji Kaisha, a porcelain company established in Arita in 1879. The dinner set with paulownia crest and the dinner set with animals in vines are not the earliest Western-style dinner services used in the Japanese imperial household, but have long histories of use that extend beyond the Meiji era, with a modified version of the service with paulownia crest used at dinners for state guests in the late twentieth century.22 Sharing the same forms but with contrasting decoration, the divergences and similarities between these services suggest their value for analysis (figs. 3.1 and 3.2). While it is the case that objects are made and remade through use beyond their material production, the point to be examined here is the process of commission in 1880 and the intentions held for these objects at that time.23 Key to this analysis is the integration of close reading of the objects themselves with study of archival texts that document their commissioning. In 1880, the Imperial Household Ministry requested estimates for two 706-piece porcelain dinner services, one decorated in gold with a paulownia crest and the other in underglaze blue. These estimates were sought from the Arita companies Seiji Kaisha and Kōransha through the Governor of Nagasaki Prefecture. Seiji Kaisha offered lower prices for a number of items, and was commissioned to produce the service decorated in underglaze blue.24 The listings for the two services are identical, featuring the same types and quantities of vessels for both dinner and dessert (table 3.1) and they can be understood to describe the dinner set with paulownia crest and the dinner set with animals in vines. In 1880, only the service with decoration in underglaze blue was commissioned, with orders for the service with paulownia crest following later. Although the intentions behind the production of these services were not explicitly recorded, the 1880 documents reveal that the dinner set with paulownia crest and the dinner set with animals in vines were pursued within the same moment. As such, if these objects are to be considered strategic, it should be possible to identify a common aim—worked into the objects themselves through the processes of design, commission, and creation—despite the apparent differences between them. These records also reveal an absence: no direct mention is given of the emperor, and any involvement he may have had in the process of commissioning cannot be known. Ordered by the Imperial Household Ministry for imperial use, these objects were, however, deployed upon the Meiji Emperor’s table and set before his guests. As such, they became part of the apparatus by which he sought to make himself at home in an irrevocably changed and changing world.

46  Mary Redfern Table 3.1  Seiji Kaisha estimates for the dinner set with paulownia crest and the dinner set with animals in vines (recorded here as “tableware with underglaze blue design”). Adapted from estimate for tableware, Seiji Kaisha, July 18, 1880, from “Goyōdoroku kōnyū,” vol. 5, 1880, Archives of the Imperial Household Agency: 69036. Tableware with gold paulownia crest

Quantity

Soup plate 60 Dinner plate 240 Dessert plate 120 Bread plate 60 Sauce tureen 8 Vegetable tureen 8 Soup tureen 4 Oval dishes (3 sizes) 8 sets Round dishes (3 sizes) 8 sets Lozenge-shaped dish 24 Tall compote 8 Medium compote 8 Low compote 8 Flat dish 48 Vegetable dish 8 Fish plate 4 Coffee cup and saucer 50 sets Total price (yen):

Cost Tableware with (yen) underglaze blue design

Quantity

Cost (yen)

450 1,620 720 330 200 320 240 840 432 192 224 200 168 288 240 300 500 7,264

60 240 120 60 8 8 4 8 sets 8 sets 24 8 8 8 48 8 4 50 sets Total price (yen):

240 840 360 150 160 240 180 680 320 132 160 136 104 144 192 240 250 4,528

Soup plate Dinner plate Dessert plate Bread plate Sauce tureen Vegetable tureen Soup tureen Oval dishes (3 sizes) Round dishes (3 sizes) Lozenge-shaped dish Tall compote Medium compote Low compote Flat dish Vegetable dish Fish plate Coffee cup and saucer

The dinner service with paulownia crest Made in Japan by Seiji Kaisha, the dinner set with paulownia crest was developed after imported models. Each item from this service carries a central paulownia crest gilded in outline. One of two crests used by Japan’s imperial family (the other being the more familiar chrysanthemum), the paulownia crest featured on this service marks it as a commission for imperial use.25 The forms and decoration of the compotes, tureens, and dishes that belong to this service, however, take little from Japan’s porcelain traditions. Rather, they combine the smooth neoclassical and more fanciful rococo shapes popular on European dining tables in the nineteenth century with a gilded palmette border similarly derived from the Western classical tradition. Even once made in Japan, it might seem fitting to consider this service “Western” in style. However, a closer examination of the models used for this service, its motifs, and its makers (in Europe and Japan) reveals a more complex web of associations that surpass this over-simplistic label. This service served to position the Meiji Emperor within an international ruling elite while simultaneously forging connections to the material practices of his Edo period ancestors.

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  47 In 2000, Ōkuma suggested that the paulownia service was developed from sample pieces of tableware from Sèvres, the renowned French porcelain manufactory. Ōkuma’s evidence for this statement was a request for prepayment written by Seiji Kaisha in 1882 that mentioned gold-decorated Sèvres ceramics.26 Other mentions of this service support Ōkuma’s assessment. In the 1880 records, it is stated that the paulownia service was to be made after models and that these sample pieces were imported, while a later record describes the gilded paulownia decoration as French.27 From his analysis of surviving ceramics from the Meiji era in the collections of the Imperial Household Agency, Ōkuma argues that the tableware of Britain—a kingdom ruled by a monarch—offered the ideal for the emperor’s court. Noting that it was difficult for Japanese craftsmen of the early Meiji era to produce perfect copies of richly decorated Minton ceramics, Ōkuma presents this use of (in this case more restrained) Sèvres models as something of a compromise on technological grounds. As he states: “The norm for the Japanese court should be not the dining table of the French bourgeois citizen, but the British royal palace banquet.”28 The material products of Sèvres, however, as much as if not more than Minton, had inherent value for the formulation of sovereign identities. Founded in 1740 at Vincennes and relocated to Saint-Cloud on the outskirts of Paris in 1756, the porcelain factory of Sèvres was purchased outright by France’s Louis XV in 1759. Under the patronage of Louis XV and his son, Louis XVI, craftsmen at Sèvres combined artistry and technological innovation to create exquisite tableware for use by the royal family and as courtly gifts until the French Revolution cut this patronage dramatically short. Sèvres’s close association with the monarchy might easily have proved catastrophic, but the factory soon found a new supporter in Napoleon Bona­ parte. As Steven Adams has discussed, Napoleon recognized the potency of Sèvres ceramics as tools of propaganda, commissioning spectacular dinner services that articulated his own identity as emperor. Scenes of his victories were painted carefully onto plates, while neoclassical, Etruscan, and Egyptian forms referenced the great empires of antiquity and the territories now controlled by imperial France.29 Over the Channel, Britain’s George IV sought out the Sèvres ceramics that revolution brought onto the market, developing one of the most significant collections of eighteenth-century Sèvres extant.30 Indeed, after Napoleon’s defeat, the restored Louis XVIII of France presented George IV with the Table des Grands Capitaines, one of four presentation tables commissioned from Sèvres by Napoleon in 1806. The Table des Grands Capitaines features cameo portraits of the great commanders of antiquity: Alexander the Great, Hannibal, Caesar, Trajan, and others. It was intended to accompany the Table des Maréchaux, which depicted Napoleon dressed in the robes of his coronation and surrounded by his marshals, and two further tables, one featuring the imperial family (never completed), and the other classical statuary

48  Mary Redfern (a project later revived by Louis XVIII).31 Taken together, the tables sought to exalt Napoleon as emperor and position him among the most renowned military leaders of history. Co-opting this symbol of Napoleon’s erstwhile achievement for his own glorification, George IV insisted upon the inclusion of the Table des Grands Capitaines in his subsequent official portraits.32 Sèvres’s unique heritage imbued its manufactures with royal associations, and it was this potential that both George IV and Napoleon harnessed. As the nineteenth century unfolded, other monarchs sought to exploit the prestige embodied in Sèvres ceramics. In the July Revolution of 1830, Louis-­ Philippe I (1773–1850) of the Orléans family (a cadet branch of France’s ruling house) displaced the restored Bourbon monarchs. Receiving the support of the upper strata of the French bourgeoisie, he was proclaimed king by the elected members of the Chamber of Deputies. Styled King of the French rather than King of France (as the Bourbon rulers had been), Louis-­ Philippe occupied a different role within France until his own abdication in 1848. However, he too looked to the material practices of France’s absolute monarchs and developed a close relationship with the Sèvres factory.33 Adopting a tradition of the Ancien Règime, Louis-Philippe commissioned dinner services for each official residence as well as for the four divisions of the royal administration. These services encoded the hierarchy of his household through their decoration, with different patterns for the king, princes, officers, and kitchen.34 Although Louis-Philippe lacked the authority of France’s eighteenth-century monarchs, he adopted their material practices while establishing himself as king. One particular dinner service commissioned by Louis-Philippe in the mid-nineteenth century for use at the Chateaux Saint-Cloud and Compiègne employs a familiar gilt palmette border. A motif widely used in the decorative arts of Europe, the classical palmette border nonetheless exists in numerous iterations. The border employed on Louis-Philippe I’s service (fig. 3.4), however, is a near exact match to that found on the Meiji Emperor’s tableware (fig. 3.5). It appears that the emperor’s tableware used a pattern with its own royal pedigree. Just as Louis-Philippe had to establish himself as a new kind of ruler during the July Monarchy, the Meiji Emperor was a monarch in challenging times: largely divorced from political power, but nonetheless visibly serving as sovereign figurehead. Taking his place as host at imperial banquets, the emperor required a dinner service that could articulate his position not only within Japan, but also among an international ruling elite. The model adopted—Sèvres ceramics with a golden palmette border—was replete with royal associations. The actual Sèvres ceramics employed for the Meiji Emperor’s tableware do not appear to survive. However, records of the Silk, Ceramics, and Lacquer Competitive Exhibition (Kenshi orimono tōshikki kyōshinkai) held at Ueno Park in 1885 offer valuable insights. Included among the reference exhibits are examples of tableware listed as “French-made with a gold paulownia

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  49

Figure 3.4  Sèvres manufactory, cup and saucer for use at the Chateaux of SaintCloud and Compiègne; cup 1833, saucer 1842, France. Hard-paste porcelain with blue enamel and gilding, cup 6.4 x 6.7 cm, saucer 13.3 cm. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Gift of Rev. Alfred Duane Pell.

Figure 3.5  Seiji Kaisha, tureen with paulownia crest, ca. 1880. Porcelain with gilding, 17.6 cm. Private collection. Photographer Masatomo Moriyama.

crest,” submitted by the Imperial Household Ministry.35 These works from “a factory in Paris, France,” are further described as possessing “regular forms with a pure-white body onto which a French-style vine motif is drawn in gold,” while “on each vessel in the center or in one place on the outside, a paulownia crest [lit. medal] is drawn in thin outline.”36 ­Assuming that the “French-style vine motif” may be taken as a palmette border, and the

50  Mary Redfern Parisian factory cited was Sèvres (located on the outskirts of the city), this record can be considered to refer to the original Sèvres models. The report dates production of the French service to 1873 (the year in which Western banquets first began to be held for certain court functions). Details of this initial commission remain to be uncovered, but, as these ceramics were reproduced by Japanese workshops from the 1880s, the associations they carried became more complex.37 With gilt classical motifs embracing rococo and neoclassical shapes, the dinner set with paulownia crest appears to share little in common with imperial tableware of Japan’s Edo period. Porcelain vessels for use on the imperial table were produced in Arita from the end of the seventeenth century. Until recently little studied in comparison to the Nabeshima porcelains produced in domain kilns for presentation to the shogun, these vessels—which comprise lidded containers, bowls, and steep-walled dishes ornamented with the imperial chrysanthemum crest and courtly (yūsoku) motifs in underglaze blue (fig. 3.6)—were ordered goods commissioned by the palace in Kyoto. Ōhashi Kōji has made a careful study of these imperial porcelains, examining examples recovered from archaeological contexts alongside those preserved in collections.38 Noting a characteristic absence of makers’ marks, Ōhashi uses documentary evidence to draw out the role of Arita’s Tsuji family as the principal makers of porcelain imperial tableware during the Edo period. In this particular respect, the dinner service with a paulownia crest holds more in common with imperial tableware of generations past than appearances might suggest.

Figure 3.6  Dish with chrysanthemum crests, cherry blossom, and cranes, 1800–1840s. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 10.8 x 2.1 cm. Hakū Collection, Kyushu Ceramic Museum.

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  51 The estimates for the dinner service with paulownia crest and that with animals in vines solicited in 1880 came from two companies: Seiji Kaisha and Kōransha. While Seiji Kaisha secured the commission, both companies counted Tsuji Katsuzō (1848–1929), the eleventh-generation head of the Tsuji house, among their founding members. According to the family genealogy, the Tsuji house first made ceramics for imperial use in the time of Tsuji Kiemon III (died 1716), supplying orders directly to the palace from the late eighteenth century. Succeeding to this lineage in 1871, Tsuji Katsuzō played his own part in the development of Arita’s ceramic industries during the changing times of the Meiji era. In 1875, he became a founding member of Kōransha, an allied company of porcelain makers and exporters. Together they exhibited at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition of 1876 and the Exposition Universelle in Paris, 1878.39 Then in 1879, Tsuji and four colleagues separated from Kōransha to establish a new company: Seiji Kaisha.40 In this way, while the forms and decoration of the dinner service with paulownia crest show little continuity with Edo period imperial tableware in terms of design, they were made by descendants of the same craftsmen. The dinner service with paulownia crest as crafted by Seiji Kaisha combined the regal associations of Sèvres with Japan’s own imperial legacy. While its makers were the descendants of those called upon to produce porcelain tableware for the emperors of the Edo period, the model for this particular service was the French porcelain of Sèvres, as Ōkuma has suggested, but rather than “bourgeois,” these were objects with a healthy royal pedigree. Not only did Sèvres possess an intimate bond with the kings (and emperors) of France, but the palmette motif used on the paulownia service had previously denoted the kingship of Louis-Philippe I. The dinner service with the paulownia crest was not merely “Western,” but loaded with associations of royalty that positioned the Meiji Emperor alongside the rulers of Europe. At the same time, by selecting Seiji Kaisha to make these objects, the Imperial Household Ministry drew the service with paulownia crest into a longer tradition of porcelain crafted for Japan’s emperors.

The dinner service with animals in vines The dinner service decorated with animals in vines uses the same forms for its plates, dishes, cups, and compotes as the dinner service with the paulownia crest. Also made by Seiji Kaisha, the production of the two services overlaps in time. Furthermore, although the dinner set with animals in vines is decorated exclusively in underglaze blue, it does not employ the characteristic motifs found upon imperial tableware of the Edo period, but takes its designs from an alternate source. While the dinner service with the paulownia crest created connections to European monarchs in its use of Sèvres models, identification of the design source adopted for the decoration of the dinner set with animals in vines sheds light on an alternate, but complementary, approach by which the Meiji Emperor’s sovereign identity was constructed.

52  Mary Redfern The service features a border motif of animals and birds, both real and imaginary, chasing each other through vine arabesques. A maximum of 11 creatures are depicted: a duck, a long-necked bird, tiger, deer, rooster and hen, winged horse, long-tailed bird, kirin, peacock, and a four-legged doglike creature. Vessels from this service do not feature an imperial crest to connect them to the imperial table. However, a number of Meiji era pieces produced by Seiji Kaisha in this design remain in the collections of the Imperial Household Agency, successor to the Imperial Household Ministry. These ceramics have been broadly dated to the 1880s, the main period of activity for Seiji Kaisha.41 The shapes of the tureens, compotes, and other pieces correspond with those from the dinner set with paulownia crest, and the range of extant pieces similarly suggests use as a combined dinner and dessert service. These same items are listed in the 1880 records, which also note that the bread plate for the service in underglaze blue and that for the service with the paulownia crest should be the same shape.42 While the service with paulownia crest was made after imported pieces of tableware, the service with underglaze blue decoration was to be made following designs.43 These designs did not originate within the pottery workshops of Arita, but were dispatched by the Imperial Household Ministry to the Governor of Nagasaki with details of the order in 1880.44 Working from surviving examples in the collections of the Imperial Household Agency, Ōkuma interprets the border motif of animals in vines as displaying an affinity towards British design through its naturalistic painting style.45 Gisela Jahn, however, comments that the animals shown running through the vines on a compote from this service are “depicted in a simple manner recalling folk art,” echoing her larger argument that Meiji era potters drew most strongly on East Asian artistic traditions.46 With such contrasting interpretations, the specific source of this unusual design demands to be better understood. In addition to the pieces in the collections of the Imperial Household Agency, further items belonging to the service with animals in vines made by Seiji Kaisha can be found in private and institutional collections.47 Among these, one group of objects deserves particular mention. In 1879 (the year that Seiji Kaisha was established), General Ulysses S. Grant visited Japan with his wife, Julia Dent Grant. A former President of the United States and hero of the American Civil War, Grant was received as a state guest for his 74-day stay in Japan.48 Grant and his entourage were lavishly entertained by their hosts, and on July 7, 1879, they lunched with the emperor. The Imperial Household Ministry printed menus in Japanese and French, with dishes including veal with mushroom puree, lamb cutlets with peas, and asparagus with butter sauce, and Grant’s chronicler John Russell Young noted that the “decorations of the table were sumptuous and royal.”49 More important for this discussion, however, is the service made by Seiji Kaisha that became a family heirloom of Grant’s descendants: a porcelain dinner service decorated in underglaze blue with animals running through twisting vines.50 Known by the family as the “Mikado Service” in reference to the Japanese emperor, this dinner service has been handed down and divided among

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  53 Grant’s descendants. As of 1989, when the service was studied by John Feller, it comprised 162 pieces including dishes, compotes, tureens, and round platters.51 The family believed that the service was presented to the Grants by the Meiji Emperor during their stay in Japan in 1879, which would have conflicted with the records regarding the earliest commissioning and production of this service, but relevant accounts of gifts presented to the couple made no mention of such items.52 Indeed, it has now been shown that the service was presented to the Grants as an imperial gift in 1883.53 While this act of presentation of imperial tableware merits further exploration, here the focus is on aspects of decoration, and Feller’s research on the Mikado Service includes useful comments on the border motifs. As would be anticipated, the number of animals running within the grapevine border varies between items as space permits up to a maximum 11 creatures encountered on the dinner plate and some other pieces. As mentioned above, these are a duck, long-necked bird, tiger, deer, rooster and hen, winged horse, long-tailed bird, kirin, peacock, and a four-legged doglike creature.54 However, Feller noted a curious aspect within the execution of this design: while the border motifs of tureens, cups, and lids are oriented as one might expect, such that the animals stand upright when the vessel is placed on a table (fig. 3.7), on examining a plate, the animals can be seen to

Figure 3.7  Seiji Kaisha, sauce tureen with animals in vines from the “Mikado Service,” 1883. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 19.1 × 17.5 cm. Philadelphia Museum of Art. Gift of the McNeil Americana Collection, 2006-3-120a-c.

54  Mary Redfern

Figure 3.8  Seiji Kaisha, dessert plate with animals in vines from “Mikado Service,” 1883. Porcelain with underglaze blue decoration, 21.6 x 1.6 cm. © Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, MA. Gift of Thomas B. Hazard.

be running around its rim (fig. 3.8).55 Taken by Feller as “evidence of a Japanese painter’s misunderstanding of Western rim decoration,” this is counter to the centripetal orientation expected of a European or North American tableware border.56 Despite not figuring in a border per se, birds and other motifs shown on Edo period imperial tableware were also typically centripetally oriented, so this cannot be the source of the contravention (fig. 3.6). While the initial estimates given by Kōransha and Seiji Kaisha in May 1880 say little more than that the decoration of the service is in underglaze blue, Seiji Kaisha’s subsequent estimate of July that year describes the service’s underglaze blue decoration as the “ancient mirror” (kokyō) pattern.57 One class of objects on which such centrifugal arrangements can be found is indeed ancient decorated bronze mirrors. Motifs of animals in vines are characteristically found upon mirrors from China’s Tang dynasty (618–907). These mirrors typically feature lions among grape vines cast in relief in their center, with outlying concentric borders that include birds, insects, or animals among vines.58 The arts of the Tang dynasty displayed an “international character,” and these vine motifs are believed to have been introduced from the arts of western Asia.59 One such mirror of particular interest to this study has an outer border in which animals, real and mythical, chase each other through tangled grape vines (fig. 3.9). There are 16 paired animals, rather than the 11 featured on the Seiji Kaisha plate, and the sequence is different; however, allowing for differences in media and technique, and for some reasonable adjustment of the design, striking similarities emerge.60

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  55

Figure 3.9  Mirror with lions and animals chasing among vines, Tang Dynasty ­(618–906). Cast cupronickel alloy, 29.7 x 2.0 cm. Shōsōin Collection, South Storehouse.

The stances of the creatures on the mirror are repeated on the plate, and all are centrifugally oriented and travel in the same direction. Why might a Tang dynasty mirror be used as a model for tableware? From a design perspective, the concentric bands of decoration on these mirrors may have lent themselves for transformation into the border of a European-­ style dinner plate. Many Tang dynasty mirrors also have foliate edges that may have called to mind the foliate borders popular in European tableware of the nineteenth century. However, I would suggest that the associations this object offered were also instrumental in its selection. Mirrors were (and in some aspects remain) important symbols of authority in the Japanese archipelago. Employed extensively within the tributary systems of China’s Han Dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE), cast bronze mirrors were imported into Japan by the first century BCE where they were subsequently reproduced in the fourth century CE.61 Used in political tribute, these objects became potent symbols of authority and mound burials of the Kofun period (ca. 3rd to 7th century CE) often included a set of mirror, sword, and jewel. This grouping is echoed in Japan’s imperial regalia and the mirror said to be enshrined at Ise Jingū.62 In addition to such wider meanings possessed by mirrors within the Japanese context, the mirror decorated with animals in vines introduced here has its own particular significance as part of the imperial collections housed in the Shōsōin. The Shōsōin repository was established at the Buddhist temple of Tōdaiji in the mid-eighth century. Its collections are of international significance.

56  Mary Redfern In addition to rich documentary sources that have proved invaluable to historians, the Shōsōin housed a unique collection of craft and artworks that came to Japan via the Silk Road.63 Many of these objects were once the courtly possessions of Emperor Shōmu, dedicated to the Great Buddha at Tōdaiji after the emperor’s death in 756 CE by his widow Empress Kōmyō. Other items entered the Shōsōin soon after, having been used in ceremonies or donated by members of the imperial family, such that the majority of the objects date from the seventh to eighth centuries. The collection notably includes a number of bronze mirrors, four of which are considered to be exceptional examples of the so-called “lion and grapevine” type.64 From the Nara period (710–794) onward, the repository at Tōdaiji was sealed. The collections therein were accessed only intermittently, preserving the objects and documents inside. After the Meiji Restoration, however, with the separation of Buddhism and Shintō, and amid developing concern over Japan’s cultural assets, the position of the Shōsōin, its collections, and its relationship with Tōdaiji came under scrutiny. In the early years of the Meiji era, the Shōsōin was increasingly drawn towards the imperial household. In 1875, control of the Shōsōin was transferred from Tōdaiji to the Home Ministry, with access requiring an edict from the Imperial Household Ministry.65 In that same year, pieces from the collection were exhibited, taking on a new public role. The stores were also opened up for foreign guests, including the grandsons of Queen Victoria, accompanied by the diplomat Ernest Satow, and the designer Christopher Dresser.66 In his diaries, Satow termed the Shōsōin “the Mikado’s godowns,” or, in other words, the storehouse of the emperor.67 Describing a glass ewer he considered Arabian, Dresser noted, “the Japanese do not know whence it came; they only know that it has been in possession of their emperors for one thousand two hundred years.”68 The implication contained in Dresser’s statement is that the importance of the works in the collections of the Shōsōin centered on an imperial provenance that stretched back to antiquity rather than on the contexts of their production, which may not have been fully understood at this time. It is telling perhaps that, although the dinner service with animals in vines employs motifs from a Chinese mirror, purchase records for the service make no reference to China, describing the pattern only as kodai or “ancient.”69 The significance and utility of the Shōsōin mirror as a design source were predicated not on connotations of China or a broader East Asian cultural heritage, but on its imperial provenance.70 Physical components of an ancestral legacy, the objects in the Shōsōin possessed valuable potential for the articulation of imperial authority within modern Japan. The value of a material culture of “restoration” was highlighted at the beginning of the Meiji era when ministers proposed a new court dress based on archaic models that predated the rise of the shoguns.71 Dating from the Nara period, the objects within the Shōsōin similarly invoked a time before the Fujiwara regencies of the Heian period (794–1185) and the subsequent ascendancy of the Minamoto shoguns in the Kama­kura

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  57 period (1185–1333) that divested political authority from the imperial throne. While plans to implement archaic court dress were never carried out, the service with animals in vines represents a translation of motifs from the ancient past onto objects that served present needs: the materialization of “restoration.” The rich potential of the Shōsōin collections was realized in other ways during the Meiji era. In 1881, while the Home Ministry remained in charge of the documentary archives, the antiquities were placed under the jurisdiction of the newly created Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce.72 Charged with the promotion of local industry (with a view towards export), the Ministry initiated the production of the Onchizuroku, 84 volumes of designs for and depictions of craft objects.73 Research into these catalogues has highlighted the use of Shōsōin-style “ancient” motifs—such as cranes, phoenixes, and floral arabesques—within designs for various crafts during the Meiji era, including many pieces made for the imperial household.74 Artifacts from the Shōsōin were also used as a source for designs used in the decoration of the Meiji Palace.75 The use of a Shōsōin mirror as the design source for tableware in 1880 can therefore be considered to be one of a series of appropriations of these objects in the Meiji era. The bronze mirror with animals in vines was not only physically suited to the task of providing a model for the decoration of bordered tableware, but was also a potent symbol of authority, both as a mirror and as part of the Shōsōin collections. While the dinner service with the paulownia crest created connections to European monarchy, imbedding the Meiji Emperor within an international ruling elite, the dinner set with animals in vines employed motifs from the “imperial treasure house” of the Shōsōin. Presented as the personal possessions of the Meiji Emperor inherited by the legacy of ancestry, the objects of the Shōsōin were called upon as models for a new imperial material culture. Serving contemporary requirements while also creating a connection to the past, the dinner service with animals in vines recalled an ancient era of imperial authority, underscoring the legitimacy of the Meiji Emperor’s elevated position.

Conclusions The Meiji Restoration and the ensuing political developments within ­Japan were predicated on a new role for the emperor himself. As the particular nature of that new role came to be determined, the emperor’s body was mobilized to draw the nation together in public ceremonials and engaged in private audiences with ministers and guests. In time, he took his place as sovereign in the more intimate and yet equally performative space of the diplomatic banquet. The success of these performances depended upon material culture as well as human agents and choices made regarding the shapes, materials, and decoration, and makers of imperial tableware reveal that these were much more than mere vessels to contain

58  Mary Redfern a newly adopted European cuisine. Instead, these porcelains possessed communicative and performative power, even if this may have been only implicitly recognized. The tableware selected for use at the imperial table had the potential to shape the identity of the Meiji Emperor as he dined with foreign and Japanese elites in a shared performance. Although described as yōshokki in orders, the dinner service with paulownia crest and the dinner service with animals in vines were not merely “Western,” but instead carried layered meanings of sovereignty ideally suited to the position being fashioned for the emperor. Crafted in Japan using imported and domestically developed models, the two services served to situate the Meiji Emperor among his peers and in history. As appropriations of French monarchic culture represented by Sèvres, and the imperial material culture of ancient Japan as preserved within the Shōsōin, these dinner services articulated the position of the Meiji Emperor as heir to Japan’s imperial legacy while setting his place among an international ruling elite. In this way, both services support a single strategy—defining Japan’s new emperor as sovereign as he took his place at the banqueting table.

Notes 1 Acknowledgements: This chapter draws on doctoral research undertaken at the University of East Anglia with a PhD Studentship from the Arts and Humanities Research Council, UK (grant number: AH/J500148/1). I would further like to express my gratitude to the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science for their award of a Research Fellowship at Kyushu University, and to the Great Britain Sasakawa Foundation and Japan Foundation Endowment Committee, who generously supported research visits to Japan. Part of this research was previously presented in Tennō no dainingu hōru: Shirarezaru Meiji tennō no kyūtei gaikō, co-­ authored by Yamazaki Taisuke, Mary Redfern, and Imaizumi Yoshiko (Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 2017). 2 The term “Western” is employed in this chapter as a translation of the Japanese term seiyō or its abbreviation yō, which referred to the cultures of Europe and North America. There is no single dining style that could be defined as “Western” in this way: the dining styles and etiquette of “the West” were neither static nor uniform, but constantly evolving and often subject to local variations. 3 For a broader discussion of the performance of imperial dining during the early Meiji era, see Yamazaki, Redfern, and Imaizumi, Tennō no dainingu hōru. 4 Focusing on gender identity, Butler demonstrated that this is neither innate nor fixed, but constructed through performative acts. See Butler, Gender Trouble. This approach has been applied to other aspects of identity, including ethnicity, class, religious affiliation, and sexuality. 5 Madison and Hamera, “Performance Studies at the Intersections,” xix. 6 These acts are codified in the “Six Conventions” or Kimurokujō of 1886. See Kunaichō, ed., Meiji Tennō ki, 6, 631. 7 Carson, Ambitious Appetites, 56–59. 8 Gilroy, “Diaspora and the Detours of Identity,” 303. 9 Berman, All That Is Solid Melts into Air, 15.

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  59 10 Ibid., 6. 11 Hanley, “The Material Culture: Stability in Transition.” 12 Breen, “The Rituals of Anglo-Japanese Diplomacy: Imperial Audiences in Early Meiji,” 62, 71–72. 13 Ibid., 62. 14 Fujitani, Splendid Monarchy. 15 Steele, Alternative Narratives in Modern Japanese, 126. 16 Akiyama, Akiyama Tokuzō menyū korekushon, 33. For other menus from imperial banquets of the Meiji era, see Akiyama Tokuzō o Shinobukai, Tennōke no kyōen. While items such as pineapple sorbet would have been a novelty when first introduced in the early Meiji era, the consumption of beef and other meats by the emperor (publicly proclaimed in 1872) was an even more significant development given the taboos that had been placed upon the eating of livestock centuries before. For a summary of these developments, and discussion of meat consumption within Japan, see Cwiertka, Modern Japanese Cuisine, 24–34 and Ishige, The History and Culture of Japanese Food, 52–58 and 146–50. 17 For a description of an imperial banquet as European, see Armstrong, Around the World with a King, 74. 18 For examples, see Rousmaniere, Vessels of Influence; Ōhashi, “Shōgun-ke kenjō igai no tokubetsuna imi o motsu Hizen jiki nidai”; Ayers et al., Porcelain for Palaces; Cassidy-Geiger, Fragile Diplomacy. 19 Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Kyōen—Kindai no tēburu āto; Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Meiji no kyūchū dezain. 20 Ōkuma Toshiyuki, “Kyūchū yōshokkishi kō,” 7. For further discussion of the Minton services commissioned by the Imperial Household Ministry, see Redfern, “Minton for the Meiji Emperor.” 21 The titles used for these services are descriptive and not necessarily the same as those used in sources of the period, as these were themselves variable. 22 This later iteration of the service replaces the central paulownia crest with the sixteen-petal chrysanthemum crest: both crests are associated with Japan’s imperial family. Mainichi Shinbunsha, Kyūchū no shokki, 8–9. 23 The concept of the cultural biography of things, by which objects are viewed as culturally constructed entities with changing meanings, was introduced by Igor Kopytoff in 1986; this would also be a fruitful line of inquiry for the objects of this study but is outside the scope of this paper. Kopytoff, “The Cultural Biography of Things.” 24 The key records pertaining to this order may be found in Goyōdoroku Meiji 13 (1880), volume 5, Archives of the Imperial Household Agency, Ref. 69036 (hereafter GYDR 69036). 25 As Yokomizu has noted, during the Edo period the shogunate was especially concerned with restricting the use of their own hollyhock crest, while the chrysanthemum and paulownia crests typically associated with the imperial house were more freely adopted by other parties; during the Meiji era, however, the design and use of imperial crests became more closely regulated. Yokomizu, “Motifs and the Treasures of Imperial Convents,” 351. The historical use and significance of the imperial paulownia crest is examined by Nukata in Kiku to kiri. 26 Two drafts of this request are preserved in Arita: Tezuka Kamenosuke, “Goyōtōki dai zenkin haishaku gan,” July 15, 1882, Archives of the Arita R ­ ekishi ­Minzoku Hakubutsukan, Momota Archives Ref. mo139 and mo18; Ōkuma, “Kyūchū yōshokkishi kō,” 5–6. 27 Seiji Kaisha’s estimate of May 25, 1880, was only for part of the service—the three sizes of compotes, lozenge-shaped dishes, coffee cups, and bread plates. At this stage the intention was that the production of the service would be split between Seiji Kaisha and Kōransha. The estimate notes that all pieces are to be

60  Mary Redfern

28

29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41 42 43

made according to sample pieces except the bread plates, which were to be the same shape as the underglaze blue sample provided. The corresponding estimate from Kōransha for the remaining pieces does not contain this information. Seiji Kaisha, “Yōshokki gochūmonhin daika mitsumorisho,” May 25, 1880, GYDR 69036. See also: Kunaishō Chōdoka, Internal document, March 1, 1880, GYDR 69036; Kunaishō, order summary, March 1, 1888, Goyōdoroku Meiji 21 (1888), volume 1, Archives of the Imperial Household Agency, Ref. 69299. Seiji Kaisha and Tsuji did make copies of some of the British Minton ceramics used by the imperial household, but Ōkuma notes that these were not of the same caliber as the originals. Ōkuma, “Kyūchū yōshokkishi kō,” 7. As an aside, it is worth noting here that the Minton wares within the imperial collections had themselves adopted the style of Sèvres tableware of the eighteenth century. See Redfern, “Minton for the Meiji Emperor.” Adams, “Sèvres Porcelain.” The British royal collections of Sèvres have been comprehensively catalogued. See de Bellaigue, French Porcelain. Ibid., 1065. de Bellaigue, “A Royal Keepsake,” 113, 116. Tamara Preaud, “Brongniart as Administrator,” 46, 48. Preaud, catalogue entry, in The Sèvres Porcelain Manufactory, 378. Nōmukyoku and Kōmukyoku, “Kyōshinkai shinsa hōkoku: Daiyonku daiichirui tōki,” 333–34. Ibid., 347. Author’s translation. An alternative suggestion regarding the origins of the Sèvres service has recently been put forward by Nagasako Minako, who raises the possibility that the service may have been acquired from the household of a foreigner in Japan rather than commissioned directly, with the imperial crests then added. The evidence for this is inconclusive, but it highlights the need for continuing research in this area. Nagasako Minako and Nagasako Shinya, “Kindai kyūchū ni okeru k ­ okusan jiki yōshokki no seiritsu katei,” 116–67; Nagasako Minako, “Shiryō yori yomitoku kindai kōshitsu shiyō no kokusan yōshokki seiritsu katei,” 8–9. Ōhashi, “Shōgun-ke kenjō igai no tokubetsuna imi o motsu Hizen jiki nidai,” 7. Kyoto ware ceramics were also made for the imperial court, but these wares have different characteristics to the Hizen porcelains. For a summary of this early phase of Kōransha’s history, see Yamada, Kōransha 130 nenshi, 9–13. For a history of Seiji Kaisha, see: Kamochi Takanori, Maboroshi no Meiji Imari, chapter 4. Tsuji’s membership of Seiji Kaisha is noted in the 1880 purchase records, see: Utsumi Tadakatsu, Letter to Kunaishō, May 29, 1880, GYDR 69036. Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Kyōen, 15. Tableware of the same design has also been made by other companies in Arita including Tsuji, Fukagawa Seiji, and Kōransha, indicating its continued use by the imperial household. Seiji Kaisha, “Yōshokki gochūmonhin daika mitsumorisho,” May 25, 1880, GYDR 69036. Only one sample piece is noted: a bread plate, see note 27 above. The use of designs rather than samples also suggests that the 1880 records refer to the first commissioning of this service: the order was placed on September 9, 1880, and Seiji Kaisha subsequently requested payment for the bulk of the order in January 1882. Kunaishō, draft letter to Governor of Nagasaki, September 9, 1880, GYDR 69036; Seiji Kaisha, January 28, 1882, “Goyōtōki goyōdaichō” in Goyōdoroku Konyū, Meiji 15 (1882), volume 1, Archives of the Imperial Household Agency, Ref. 69102 (hereafter GYDR 69102).

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  61 44 Kunaishō, draft letter to Governor of Nagasaki, March 2, 1880, GYDR 69036. The design drawings were supplied to the imperial household by the merchant Miyagawa Chōemon, who was evidently entrusted with the original Sèvres ceramics for this purpose: Nagasako and Nagasako, “Kindai kyūchū ni okeru kokusan jiki yōshokki,” 114. 45 Ōkuma, “Kyūchū yōshokkishi kō,” 6. 46 Jahn, Meiji Ceramics, 216, 7. 47 For examples in private collections, see: Saga Kenritsu Kyūshū Tōji Bunkakan, Kindai no Kyūshū tōjiten; Kamochi, Meiji Imari, 138–41. 48 For a discussion of the Grants’ visit, see Chang, “General Grant’s 1879 Visit to Japan.” 49 Akiyama, Akiyama Tokuzō menyū korekushon, 20; Akiyama Tokuzō o ­Shinobukai, Tennōke no kyōen, 23; Young, Around the World with General Grant, vol. II, 534. 50 A separate service of Western-style tableware made by Kyoto potters including Kanzan Denshichi and Kiyomizu Rokubei was ordered for the Grants by the Prefectural Government of Kyoto. For details and photographs of pieces considered to be from this service, see: Kyōto-fu Sōgōshiryōkan Bunkashiryōka, Meiji no kyōyaki. An outbreak of cholera during the Grants’ visit, however, meant that they were not able to visit Kyoto. 51 Feller, “Julia Dent Grant and the Mikado Porcelain.” 52 Ibid., 173. Julia Dent Grant noted that the emperor and empress gave her and her husband “many beautiful and valuable souvenirs of our visit: rolls of superb silk, vases, cabinets, and several very fine photograph albums,” while government minister Inoue Kaoru listed a bookshelf, copper vase, lacquer chairs, brocade, and other items. Grant, The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent, 304; Inoue, Segai Inoue Kō den, vol. III, 126. 53 Nagasako, “Shiryō yori yomitoku,” 9. 54 Kamochi has suggested that the four-legged creature is a squirrel, however its legs are unusually long and its pose is uncharacteristic. The eye markings visible on some examples may suggest a Japanese raccoon dog (tanuki) or a civet cat, but it is difficult to say from the extant pieces exactly what animal is represented, and it could be a dog or lion: Kamochi, Meiji Imari, 138. 55 Feller, “The Mikado Porcelain,” 168; a set of dishes with similar centrifugal arrangement of the border motifs made by Kyoto potter Kanzan Denshichi is preserved in the Imperial Cuisine Department of the Imperial Household Agency: see Sannomaru Shōzōkan, Kyōen, 13. 56 Feller, “The Mikado Porcelain,” 174. 57 Seiji Kaisha, “Goki daika mitsumorisho,” July 18, 1880, copy, GYDR 69036. 58 Thompson, “The Evolution of the T’ang Lion and Grapevine Mirror.” 59 Columbia University, The Columbia University Exhibition of Art of the T’ang Dynasty and Its Antecedents, 3, 9. 60 In her discussion of mirrors with lion and grapevine designs, Thompson noted that the outer borders would contain 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, or 18 creatures: Thompson, “Lion and Grapevine Mirror,” 37. With a maximum 11 animals within its border, it is unlikely that a mirror of this type exists that could have offered a direct model for the design without some adaptation. 61 Barnes, “Early Japanese Bronzemaking.” 62 For a history of Ise Jingū and its re-inventions, see Teeuwen and Breen, A Social History of the Ise Shrines. 63 The collections within the Shōsōin were moved to a new facility as of 1962. 64 Thompson, “Lion and Grapevine Mirror,” 27. 65 Farris, “Pieces in a Puzzle,” 408.

62  Mary Redfern 66 Dresser, Japan, Its Architecture, Art and Art-Manufactures, 94–103; Prince Albert Victor and Prince George, The Cruise of Her Majesty’s Ship “Bacchante,” vol. 2, 110. 67 Satow, A Diplomat in Japan, 478. It is not definitive in the original text whether Satow is referring specifically to the Meiji Emperor or the imperial line more generally, but elsewhere in his text he does consistently refer to the Meiji Emperor as “the Mikado.” 68 Dresser, Japan, 99. 69 For example: Seiji Kaisha, 28 January 1882, “Goyōtōki goyōdaichō,” GYDR 69102. 70 For this reason, I would not suggest that this act of appropriation be read as an example of pan-Asianism within the material culture of the imperial household in the early Meiji era; for details of pan-Asian movements and ideology in Meiji era Japan see Saaler and Koschmann, eds., Pan-Asianism in Modern Japanese History. 71 Osakabe, Yōfuku, sanpatsu, dattō, chapter 1. 72 Farris, “Pieces in a Puzzle,” 410. 73 Satō, Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State, 115, 117. 74 Ōkuma, “‘Kunaishō-gata’ no imi,” 173. 75 See, for example: Emi, “Meiji kyūden Tsunegoten.”

References Adams, Steven. “Sèvres Porcelain and the Articulation of Imperial Identity in Napoleonic France.” Journal of Design History 20, no. 3 (2007): 183–204. Akiyama Shirō, ed. Akiyama Tokuzō menyū korekushon [The collection of menus of Akiyama Tokuzō]. Tokyo: Akiyama Tokuzō Shinobukai, 1976. Akiyama Tokuzō o Shinobukai, ed. Tennōke no kyōen. Akiyama Tokuzō Kinen Kankōkai, 1983. Albert Victor, Prince, and Prince George. The Cruise of Her Majesty’s Ship “Bacchante”: 1879–1882. 2 volumes. Compiled by John Neale Dalton. London: Macmillan and Co., 1886. Armstrong, William N. Around the World with a King. New York: Frederick A. Stokes, 1904. Ayers, John, Oliver Impey, and J.V.G. Mallet. Porcelain for Palaces: The Fashion for Japan in Europe, 1650–1750. London: Oriental Ceramics Society, 1990. Barnes, Gina. “Early Japanese Bronzemaking.” Archaeology 34, no. 3 (May/June 1981): 38–46. Berman, Marshall. All That is Solid Melts Into Air: The Experience of Modernity, 1982. Reprint, New York: Penguin Books, 1988. Breen, John. “The Rituals of Anglo-Japanese Diplomacy: Imperial Audiences in Early Meiji.” In The History of Anglo-Japanese Relations, 1600–2000, Vol. 5: Social and Cultural Perspectives, edited by Gordon Daniels and Chūshichi Tsuzuki, 60–76. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. London: Routledge, 1990. Carson, Barbara G. Ambitious Appetites: Dining, Behavior and Patterns of Consumption in Federal Washington. Washington DC: American Institute of Architects Press, 1990. Cassidy-Geiger, Maureen ed., Fragile Diplomacy: Meissen Porcelain for European Courts ca. 1710– 63. New York: Yale University Press/Bard Graduate Center, 2007.

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  63 Chang, Richard T. “General Grant’s 1879 Visit to Japan.” Monumenta Nipponica 24, no. 4 (1969): 373–92. Columbia University. The Columbia University Exhibition of Art of the T’ang D ­ ynasty and its Antecedents. New York: Columbia University, 1967. http://arthurmsackler fdn.org/pdf/ams/Columbia-ArtoftheTangDyanastyanditsAntecedents.pdf. Cwiertka, Katarzyna J. Modern Japanese Cuisine: Food, Power and National Identity. London: Reaktion Books, 2006. de Bellaigue, Geoffrey. “A Royal Keepsake: The Table of the Grand Commanders.” Furniture History 34 (1998): 112–41. ———. French Porcelain in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen. 3 volumes. London: Royal Collection Trust, 2009. Dresser, Christopher. Japan, its Architecture, Art and Art-Manufactures. London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1882. Emi Chizuko. “Meiji kyūden Tsunegoten fusuma-e no kōan—Shōsōin kamoge byōbu mozō Heike nōkyō mohon no inyō to Yamataka Nobuakira / The Fusuma Sliding Door Paintings of the Meiji Imperial Palace Tsunegoten—the Roles of Yamataka Nobuakira a Screen in the Shosoin collection, and the Sutra Scrolls donated by Heike Clan.” Museum 617 (December 2008): 37–86. Farris, William Wayne. “Pieces in a Puzzle: Changing Approaches to the Shōsōin Documents.” Monumenta Nipponica 62, no. 4 (Winter 2007): 397–435. Feller, John Quentin. “Julia Dent Grant and the Mikado Porcelain.” Winterthur Portfolio 24, no. 2–3 (Summer/Autumn 1989): 165–74. Fujitani, Takashi. Splendid Monarchy: Power and Pageantry in Modern Japan. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Gilroy, Paul. “Diaspora and the Detours of Identity.” In Identity and Difference, edited by Kathryn Woodward, 299–343. Milton Keynes: The Open University, 1997. Grant, Julia Dent. The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent Grant (Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant). New York: Putnam, 1975. Hanley, Susan. “The Material Culture: Stability in Transition.” In Japan in Transition: From Tokugawa to Meiji, edited by Marius B. Jensen and Gilbert Rozman, 447–69. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. Inoue Kaoru Kō denki hensankai, ed. Segai Inoue Kō den [Biography of the extraordinary Marquis Inoue]. Tokyo: Naigai Shoseki Kabushiki Kaisha, 1933–34. Ishige, Naomichi. The History and Culture of Japanese Food. London: Kegan Paul, 2001. Jahn, Gisela. Meiji Ceramics: The Art of Japanese Export Porcelain and Satsuma Ware 1868–1912. Translated by Michael Foster. Stuttgart: Arnoldsche, 2004. Kamochi Takanori. Maboroshi no Meiji Imari—higeki no Seiji Kaisha [Vision of Meiji Imari—the tragedy of Seiji Kaisha]. Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha, 2006. Kopytoff, Igor. “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process.” In The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, edited by Arjun Appadurai, 64–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Kunaichō, ed., Meiji Tennō ki [Record of the Meiji Emperor]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1968–1977. Kyōto-fu Sōgōshiryōkan Bunkashiryōka, ed. Meiji no kyōyaki [Kyoto ceramics of the Meiji era]. Kyoto: Kyōto-fu Sōgōshiryōkan Tomo no Kai, 1979. Madison, D. Soyini and Judith Hamera. “Performance Studies at the Intersections.” In The Sage Handbook of Performance Studies, edited by D. Soyini Madison and Judith Hamera, xi–xxv. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2006.

64  Mary Redfern Mainichi Shinbunsha, ed. Kyūchū no shokki [Tableware of the imperial court]. ­Tokyo: Mainichi Shinbunsha, 1999. Nagasako Minako. “Shiryō yori yomitoku kindai kōshitsu shiyō no kokusan yōshokki seiritsu katei” [The process of the establishment of the use of domestic Western-style tableware by the modern imperial household as read from the sources]. Kindai tōji 19 (June 2018): 2–11. Nagasako Minako and Nagasako Shinya. “Kindai kyūchū ni okeru kokusan jiki yōshokki no seiritsu katei” [The process of the establishment of domestic porcelain Western-style tableware in the modern court]. Gakushūin daigaku shiryōkan kiyō 23 (2017): 109–37. Nōmukyoku and Kōmukyoku. “Kyōshinkai shinsa hōkoku: Daiyonku daiichirui tōki” [Review report of the competitive exhibition: division 4, category 1 ceramics]. In Meiji zenki sangyō hattatsushi shiryō, vol. 10, part 3, edited by Fujiwara Masato, 333–34. Tokyo: Meiji Bunken Shiryō Kankōkai, 1964. Nukata Iwao. Kiku to kiri: Kōki naru monshō no sekai [Chrysanthemum and paulownia: The world of noble crests]. Tokyo: Tokyo Bijutsu, 1996. Ōhashi Kōji. “Shōgun-ke kenjō igai no tokubetsuna imi o motsu Hizen jiki nidai: kinri goyō tōji to umeboshi-yō tsubo” [Two essays on the special Hizen porcelains besides those produced for the Shogunal family: porcelain for the imperial household and vases for pickled plums]. Saga kenritsu kyūshū tōji bunkakan kenkyū kiyō [Bulletin of the Kyushu Ceramic Museum] 3 (2004): 1–62. Ōkuma Toshiyuki. ‘“Kunaishō-gata’ no imi—keijō zaishitsu gaikōteki yakuwari” [The meaning of ‘Kunaishō style’—shape, quality of materials, diplomatic role]. In Meiji dezain no tanjō: chōsa kenkyū hōkokusho onchizuroku / Report of research on “onchizuroku”: A collection of craft design sketches of the Meiji era, edited by Tōkyō Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, 171–75. Tokyo: Kokusho Kankōkai, 1997. ———. “Kyūchū yōshokkishi kō” [Thoughts on the history of court Western-style tableware]. In Kyōen: Kindai no tēburu āto / Imperial Feasts: Modern Table Art, edited by Sannomaru Shōzōkan, 4–7. Tokyo: Kunaichō, 2000. Osakabe Yoshinori. Yōfuku, sanpatsu, dattō: fukusei no Meiji ishin [Western clothing, cut hair, detached swords: The Meiji restoration in clothing systems]. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2000. Preaud, Tamara. “Brongniart as Administrator.” In The Sèvres Porcelain Manufactory: Alexandre Brongniart and the Triumph of Art and Industry, 1800–1847, 43–51. New Haven, Conn.: Published for the Bard Graduate Center for Studies in the Decorative Arts by Yale University Press, 1997. Redfern, Mary. “Minton for the Meiji Emperor.” In Britain and Japan: Biographical Portraits, vol. X, edited by Hugh Cortazzi, 542–53. Folkestone: Renaissance Books, 2016. Rousmaniere, Nicole Coolidge. Vessels of Influence: China and the Birth of Porcelain in Medieval and Early Modern Japan. London: Bristol Classical Press, 2012. Saaler, Sven, and J. Victor Koschmann, eds. Pan-Asianism in Modern Japanese ­History: Colonialism, Regionalism and Borders. Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2007. Saga Kenritsu Kyūshū Tōji Bunkakan, ed., Kindai no Kyūshū tōjiten [Exhibition of modern Kyushu ceramics]. Arita: Saga Kenritsu Kyūshū Tōji Bunkakan, 1983. Sannomaru Shōzōkan, ed. Kyōen—Kindai no tēburu āto / Imperial Feasts—Modern Table Art. Tokyo: Kunaichō, 2000.

Porcelain for the Meiji Emperor’s table  65 ———. Meiji no kyūchū dezain—wa chū yō no yūwa no bi o motomete / The Imperial Court Design—Searching for Harmony between the Japanese, Chinese and Western Styles. Tokyo: Kunaichō, 2003. Satō, Dōshin. Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State: The Politics of Beauty. Translated by Hiroshi Nara. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2011. Satow, Ernest. A Diplomat in Japan Part II: The Diaries of Ernest Satow, 1870–1883, edited by Ian Ruxton. Morrisville, NC: Lulu Press, 2009. Steele, William M. Alternative Narratives in Modern Japanese History. London: Routledge, 2003. Teeuwen, Mark, and John Breen. A Social History of the Ise Shrines: Divine Capital. London: Bloomsbury, 2017. Thompson, Nancy. “The Evolution of the T’ang Lion and Grapevine Mirror.” Artibus Asiae, 29, no. 1 (1967): 25–54. Yamada Takehisa. Kōransha 130 nenshi [130-year history of Kōransha]. Arita: Kōransha, 2008. Yamazaki Taisuke, Mary Redfern, and Imaizumi Yoshiko. Tennō no dainingu hōru: Shirarezaru Meiji tennō no kyūtei gaikō [The emperor’s dining hall: unknown court diplomacy of the Meiji emperor]. Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 2017. Yokomizu Hiroko. “Motifs and the Treasures of Imperial Convents.” In Amamonzeki jiin no sekai: Miko-tachi no shinkō to gosho bunka / A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents, edited by Medieval Japanese Studies Institute et al., 350–52. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009. Young, John Russell. Around the World with General Grant. 2 volumes. New York: The American News Company, 1879.

Part II

4 Modernizing ceramic form and decoration Kyoto potters and the Teiten Gisela Jahn

Around the turn of the twentieth century, many Japanese ceramists dramatically changed the style of their work in response to a widely circulating critique: Japanese ceramics were antiquated.1 At the 1895 Fourth National Industrial Exposition (Naikoku Kangyō Hakurankai), judges excoriated Kyoto ceramic entries as old-fashioned in surface designs and poor in technique. Then at the 1900 Paris World’s Fair, the art dealer Siegfried Bing (1838–1905) and others critiqued Japanese pottery as out of step with current Western styles. Viewers at the fair paid particular attention to Bing, a pioneer of Japonisme and trendsetter for Western Art Nouveau design. His influence, among other factors, caused Western collectors who had been eagerly buying up imported Japanese ceramics to turn their focus to European Art Nouveau things. The result was dramatic for Japanese ceramics companies: many went bankrupt. Unsurprisingly, export ware factories in the major ceramics centers of Seto, Tajimi, Kutani, and Arita sought new approaches to designing forms and surface decoration. Simultaneously, smaller workshops and individual potters became more self-conscious of their work’s identification as “artistic.” The gap between industrial ceramics and artistic ceramics widened. Despite the dramatic criticisms of their ceramics as antiquated and the loss of buyers in Europe, Kyoto-based ceramists experienced a comparatively stable continuity of production throughout the Meiji era (1868–1912). Taking into account these changes as well as continuities, Kyoto ceramists became modern. In this chapter, I document the major stylistic shifts of early twentieth-century ceramics made in Kyoto and consider what caused them to change. In particular, I will examine how potters in Kyoto transformed from craftsmen to artists. I argue that two factors were responsible for this shift. First, potters championed the establishment of a division for art craft (bijutsu kōgei) within the Imperial Art Academy Exhibition (Teikoku ­Bijutsuin Tenrankai, abbreviated as the Teiten). There, they aligned themselves with painters and sculptors, a stance that contributed to their recognition as artists. Secondly, Kyoto ceramists shifted their forms and surface decoration so that they aligned with the modern expression of other artists and craftsmen displaying works at the Teiten and other exhibitions.

70  Gisela Jahn Individually, Kyoto ceramists made various artistic statements; as a group, they contributed to a set of major stylistic shifts.

Structural changes in the display of craft: From the Nōten to the Teiten The decline of export production during the waning years of Japonisme necessitated a change to the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce’s previously successful policy of “industrial promotion” (shokusan kōgyō). In response, the Imperial Household and Education Ministries began to emphasize the “advancement of art” (bijutsu shinkō).2 These government agencies encouraged the Japanese people’s awareness of native forms of artistic production and promoted Japan as a nation of culture. In 1907, the Ministry of Education realized the goal of encouraging artistic production by establishing the Ministry of Education Art Exhibition (Monbushō Bijutsu Tenrankai, also known as the Bunten). In 1919, it was reorganized and renamed the aforementioned Teiten. Inspired by Parisian Salon exhibitions, the Bunten showed only painting and sculpture. Artisans working in craft media were not able to benefit from a state-run exhibition system until 1913, when the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce Exhibition (Nōshōmushō Tenrankai, or Nōten) was established under pressure from the craft industry. The Nōten was renamed the Shōkōten in 1925 when the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce (Nōshōmushō), which was in charge of the exhibition, was restructured as the Ministry of Commerce and Industry (Shōkōshō). Whereas the Bunten/Teiten omitted representation of works intended for export and domestic commerce, the Nōten/Shōkōten’s focus strengthened handcraft and industrial production for domestic as well as export markets. And, whereas the Bunten/Teiten showed art, the Nōten/Shōkōten presented craft and manufactured goods. This system of two parallel exhibitions deepened the chasm between fine art and applied art that had emerged after the World’s Fair in Vienna in 1873. At the Nōten/Shōkōten, tensions existed between the manufacturers of everyday articles of trade (craft, or kōgei, and industry, or sangyō) and artist-craftsmen who made individual pieces (art craft, or bijutsu kōgei). All objects were exhibited together, despite the fact that the artist-craftsmen considered their works to be superior to industrial goods. This approach caused discontent on the part of the participating manufacturers.

Kyoto potters and the Teiten From the inception of the Bunten/Teiten, craftsmen worked intently towards the establishment of a division for art craft (bijutsu kōgei), reflecting significant changes in the world of fine art and craft. Several factors contributed to this effort. In the early 1910s, ceramist Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963) and painter Tsuda Seifū (1888–1978) introduced to Japan the

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  71 concept of shōgeijutsu, “lesser arts” or objects for daily use, taken from the writings of William Morris. According to Morris, craftsmen, artists, and audiences should approach and appreciate “lesser arts” with the same attitude as toward the fine arts. In 1913 the department store Mitsukoshi in Osaka seized this idea and organized the Lesser Arts by Modern Masters Exhibition (Gendai Taika Shōgeijutsuhin Chinretsukai).3 A second factor in the establishment of a division for art craft was that potters had begun to receive professional training at collegiate-level art schools and academies such as the Tokyo Higher Technical School (­Tokyo Kōtō Kōgyō Gakkō), the Training Center of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (Kyoto Tōjiki Shikenjo Fuzoku Denshūsho), and the Kyoto City School of Art and Craft (Kyoto Shiritsu Bijutsu Kōgei Gakkō).4 Finally, groups such as Yūtōen (established in 1902, active until ca. 1907) and ­Katsumikai (established in 1909)5 encouraged collaborations between artists and designers, resulting in potters’ conceiving of themselves as artists. With such new professional identities, many craftsmen requested official recognition of their independent style and quality of artistry; in other words, they wished to be recognized as artists. Influential Kyoto potters such as Kiyomizu Rokubei V (1875–1959), Itō Tōzan II (1871–1937), and the founder of the avant-garde group Akatsuchi (Red Earth), Kusube Yaichi (1897–1984), understood themselves not as mere producers of decorative works but as artist-craftsmen.6 These and other Kyoto potters presented their ceramics as artworks in exhibitions of associations including Katsumikai, Kyoto Kōgeikai, and Kyoto Bijutsukai; at prominent department stores such as Mitsukoshi and Takashimaya; and in privately organized shows. Kiyomizu Rokubei V, Itō Tōzan II, and Kusube Yaichi—along with the Tokyo ceramist Itaya Hazan (1872–1963) and the metal craftsman, publicist, and outstanding spokesman for artisans Takamura Toyochika (1890–1972)—appealed for the establishment of a division for art craft at the Teiten.7 They were supported by the designers and artists Fujii Tatsukichi (1881–1964) and Tsuda Seifū; the influential director of the Tokyo Art Academy, Masaki Naohiko; and the painter Kuroda Seiki (1866– 1924). Various craft associations and art-related magazines such as Kōgei jidai and Chūō bijutsu published discussions and updates on this topic. In 1919, as the Bunten was being restructured as the Teiten, the first attempt to launch a division for art craft failed due to a lack of willingness by painters, sculptors, and the Ministry of Education. By 1922, however, at the Tokyo Peace Memorial Exhibition (Heiwa Kinen Tokyo Hakurankai), Masaki and Kuroda succeeded in setting the four categories—painting, sculpture, architecture, and craft—on one level.8 Nevertheless, the admission of craftsmen’s works to the Teiten continued to meet opposition. The Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce opposed it categorically. The Ministry of Education faced a predicament, as its responsibility was to promote both a range of domestic production and high-quality ware from workshops, manufacturers, and industry. The departure of artist-craftsmen from the Nōten

72  Gisela Jahn might result in a loss of quality.9 After vigorous debates, in 1926 a group of craftsmen, including many Kyoto potters, succeeded in establishing the Japan Craft Art Association (Nihon Kōgei Bijutsukai) and organized a parallel exhibition alongside the seventh Teiten. As a result of their activities, a department for art craft (bijutsu kōgei) was established at the eighth Teiten the following year.10 From this point forward, the criteria for acceptance to the Teiten were the same for craftsmen, painters, and sculptors. First, the work had to be original, meaning the designer must have executed the piece by himself. However, such a condition could barely be fulfilled in the ceramics field. An artist potter or workshop leader might design an object’s form and surface, but assistants typically did the throwing, glazing, and firing.11 Itaya Hazan, for example, worked all his life with a throwing assistant. Craftsmen were allowed to submit two pieces for consideration by the Teiten jury, provided that the two objects had different styles and techniques. Such a system implied that the organizers imposed no fixed stylistic or technical restraints. Ambitious applicants could submit two utterly diverse pieces. This, in turn, raises the question: was a ceramist who submitted work to the Teiten aiming to distinguish himself through an individual style or simply attempting to get work accepted to the exhibition? A jury of craftsmen reviewed submissions to the Teiten.12 Jurors were allowed to recommend selected artists and to exempt from review (mukansa) work by established artist-craftsmen applicants. Nepotism flourished. Less established candidates sought advice regarding the style and quality of their submissions. In 1935, Minister of Education Matsuda Genji (1875–1936) reorganized the exhibition and its supporting institution, the Imperial Art Academy (Teikoku Bijutsuin), in what became known as the Matsuda Reform. He aimed at reforming the discredited mukansa system by altering the composition and number of jurors.13 The selection of Tomimoto Kenkichi as a juror alongside Kiyomizu Rokubei V and Itaya Hazan brought great discontent among Kyoto potters and even threats from some jurors to resign their membership.14 Tomimoto, an outsider to the Kyoto pottery scene at that time, had vigorously critiqued the Teiten and the mukansa system. Beginning with their first participation in the Teiten of 1927, Kyoto potters were always strongly represented, with the highest quota of participation among ceramic artists from any region of Japan. Kyoto potters, including Kiyomizu Rokubei V, Sawada Sōzan (1881–1963), Itō Tōzan II and III (1900–1970), Kawamura Seizan (1890–1967), and Kusube Yaichi, were active as Teiten jurors.15 In particular, Rokubei V, who served on almost every ­Teiten jury until 1943, exerted a great influence. These men formed the core of the Teiten potters and distinguished themselves with what many considered to be the most fashionable and highest quality works. At the pivotal eighth Teiten of 1927, 10 out of the 17 participating potters came from Kyoto.16 Their works reflected the tension between convention

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  73

Figure 4.1  K iyomizu Rokubei VI, vase with mother and child motif, 1927.  Stoneware, 40 x 20 cm. Private collection.

and progress. Rokubei V showed a piece of conventional design in the sense that it was true to sophisticated Chinese-inspired Meiji ceramics and their elegant, softly curved shapes. Similarly, his floral ornamentation wrapped itself in a classical manner around the vessel. The painting’s flow, which becomes dense and then loosens, was applied in cobalt from light to dark shades. His son, Rokubei VI (1901–1980), showed an Art Nouveau-inspired vase with four figural reliefs of a mother holding a child in her arms (fig. 4.1). The jury declared this piece to be progressive, presumably because of its new, unfamiliar relief sculpture motif in combination with a fashionable transmutation glaze.17 Overall, it was an unprecedented creation. At the ninth Teiten, Rokubei VI continued to display his sculptural skills and mastery of contemporary transmutation glazes by presenting a vase with a bulbous body and a bird leaning its long tail and wings against the vase’s long neck.18 A number of vases displayed at the 1927 Teiten show the influence of contemporary metalwork, considered the leading medium in modern design at the time. For example, the vessel of Kawamura Seizan (1890–1967) was shaped not on the potter’s wheel but by using a mold constructed with a rectangular base and four sharply edged sides. Four handles reminiscent of metal strips connected the lip and the shoulder. The painted decoration of isolated, stylized

74  Gisela Jahn floral motifs was inspired by Korean buncheong ceramics. This versatile creator also displayed a mural consisting of painted tiles depicting an Indian musician. Seizan’s younger brother Kitarō, once a member of the Akatsuchi group, presented a polygonal vase with a constructivist geometrical pattern.19 Kusube Yaichi attached four sharp edges to his wheel-thrown vessel, running from the shoulder to the foot and resulting in a provocative hybrid of forms associated with both ceramic and metal vessels. His Art Deco version of a well-known grapevine pattern proved to be quite novel in style, with its application technique clearly derived from metal work (fig. 4.2). This vessel, dating from 1927, was supposedly made specifically for the Teiten. Other Kyoto potters represented at the eighth Teiten also mixed stylistic sources in unfamiliar ways. Sawada Sōzan’s characteristically squat form is vaguely reminiscent of Art Nouveau; the vessel had a concave vaulted body opening to a wide round shoulder that ended abruptly in a “neck” formed to resemble a bowl turned upside down. He decorated the body of the vase with vertically organized floral cutout decorations and placed the vase on a Chinese-style stand. Such a mixture of styles was typical of his workshop.20 Itō Tōzan II showed a rectangular plate decorated with floral twines and branches reminiscent of Jiajing period (1522–66) plates from the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644).

Figure 4.2  Kusube Yaichi, vase with grapevine motif, 1927.  Stoneware, 36 x 28 cm. Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art.

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  75

Art Nouveau, floral motifs, and Teiten ceramics After 1900, many potters from Kyoto and elsewhere endeavored to modernize Japanese ceramics by catching up with the prevailing Western style of Art Nouveau. One can observe how their vases adopted some of the characteristic traits of Art Nouveau: organic shapes, floral decoration, and patterns limited to the top third of the vessel. At the international expositions, however, these Art Nouveau-style pieces made in Japan could not compete with Art Nouveau objects produced in Europe, and their market in Japan was too small. In the 1910s and 1920s, many Japanese potters became more aware of their own cultural heritage and East Asian artistic traditions. Thus, instead of borrowing Western models, potters set out to find their own, manifesting in three tendencies: stylized floral motifs that reflected trends in contemporary Japanese design; compositional schemes that emphasized the isolation of motifs, particularly in vertical segmentation; and inspiration from contemporary metal work. As we see in these tendencies, the development of modern Kyoto ceramics resulted from open-mindedness and a search for new impulses, whether drawn from other craft mediums, other forms of art, or other East Asian cultures. Furthermore, this development also testified to an ability to respond to certain social and political changes—in other words, the ability to be attentive to the spirit of the time. These leanings reflected the tensions between international and native influences, specifically Western versus Japanese/East Asian art. From a social and cultural perspective, the calls for individuality, originality, and the transgression of convention were important stimuli. From the first Nōten in 1913 onwards, stylized floral motifs permeated Japanese design. Designers incorporated floral motifs into drafts for book covers, packaging, window decorations, textiles, and other types of artisanal wares. It was not surprising that potters followed this design fashion. During the Taisho era (1912–26), Art Nouveau ceased to be a leading stylistic trend. Many designers and potters preferred familiar Japanese or Chinese floral motifs and patterns, making them anew through compositional alterations. Potters abandoned naturalistic rendering for the sake of a simplified and precise structure. In general, stylizations of blossom, leaf, or vine scroll (karakusa) patterns resulted in a partly symmetrical system of tendrils, sometimes garnished with a schematic rendering of birds, animals, or other blossoms in a circle, in a manner evoking folk-art painting. The adoption of stylized floral motifs signified self-confidence and independence in creating modern individual designs in the years before the Teiten. As mentioned before, potters in Kyoto began working side by side with designers in associations like Yūtōen and Katsumikai.21 Later in the Taisho era they collaborated with designers and artists such as Sawada Sei’ichirō, Fujii Tatsukichi, and Tsuda Seifū, all of whom had sojourned and studied in Europe and the United States. It should be noted that stylized floral motifs did not appear on ceramics works at the Teiten. One reason might

76  Gisela Jahn have been that these designs showed close collaboration with designers and therefore were more appropriate as exhibition pieces for the Nōten, which, as mentioned above, focused on trade. At the Teiten, potters eagerly sought to qualify themselves as artists and their exhibition pieces as works of art. Nevertheless, stylized floral motifs continued to be popular, as testified for instance by many examples by Kiyomizu Rokubei VI.22 How far his formal approach differed from that of his father (fig. 4.3) is evident in one of his vases (fig. 4.4). Its particularity lies in the unusual composition of form, decoration, and arrangement of blossoms. Different parts of the flowers and leaves are disconnected from one another on the vessel’s surface, similar to a stenciled motif, and not delimited through lines. This was a widespread method of designing at the time, but Rokubei VI demonstrated his modern approach by uniting his design with the sgraffito technique borrowed from Chinese Cizhou ware and Korean buncheong ceramics. Antique vessels in both styles had become sought after as collection pieces after 1920, as a result of the archaeological excavation boom in China and Korea. With his vessel’s round-bodied and inviting shape inspired by early Chinese ceramics and its modern surface design, Rokubei VI managed to create a style mix that no other Japanese potter had ventured to that point. Furthermore, a comparison with Western patterns is quite relevant—for instance, the biscuit containers designed in 1917 for the Bahlsen company

Figure 4.3  K iyomizu Rokubei V, Otowa ware vase with narrow neck and design of flowers and grasses, 1914.  Stoneware, 22.5  x 8.5  cm. Private collection.

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  77

Figure 4.4  K iyomizu Rokubei VI, vase with floral pattern, 1938.  Stoneware with sgraffito, 31.5  x 38.6  cm. Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art.

(Hannover, Germany) by Ella Margold.23 The point is not to search for sources that might prove that Japanese ceramists based their work on Western models. One might better observe that, by that time, a universal design language had established itself and had been adopted in Japan as well. On the one hand, Rokubei VI’s vase shows his international ambitions; on the other, it reflects the nationalistic spirit of the late 1930s. The use of such techniques in Japanese ceramic decoration did not merely involve borrowing an Asian technique but suggested the appropriation of a cultural heritage that neither China nor Korea maintained. Japanese potters discovered this patrimony and brought it to full bloom again through their own interpretations. Japanese values thus gained in importance in the field of art craft on display at the Teiten. By participating in the Teiten, potters made their mark not merely as artists but as politically responsible artists.

Influences from Korean ceramics After the establishment of the Teiten and the admission of ceramics, a new decoration style developed. Isolated motifs became popular, especially when arranged in vertical segments. One can trace these characteristics to contemporary Japanese metalwork and historical Korean ceramics. Small, solitaire-like, floral, or geometrical motifs became popular. They appeared without frames, as simple ornamental elements—as quotations of classic motifs such as grapes, melons, pumpkins, and blossoms or as brand-new

78  Gisela Jahn

Figure 4.5  Miyanaga Tōzan I, vase with grapevine motif, 1935.  Stoneware with inlay under celadon glaze, 39 x 25.5 cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art.

patterns. At times they were floral or descriptive, with renderings of boats, animals, or birds. For example, Miyanaga Tōzan I (1868–1941), a regular participant in the Teiten from 1932 to 1941, and exempt from review (­mukansa) beginning in 1934, converted the grape pattern often executed in a loose sketch-like manner on Korean and Chinese ceramics into an ornamental stylization. A nearly symmetrical arrangement of vines and leaves with incised black leaf veins that surrounds the grapes clearly illustrates the aforementioned stylization of floral motifs. Miyanaga combined Goryeo dynasty (918–1392) style celadon glaze and inlay with Korean/Chinese motifs, transforming them into a modern Japanese statement (fig. 4.5). Miyanaga’s vase points to the significance of celadon glazes at that time. Since the turn of the twentieth century, owing to new chemical knowledge introduced from Europe, these glazes had been the focus of much experimentation aimed at the creation of new hues and textures through use of chromate and other oxides. Although commercial and technical strategies were strong motivations, they were not the primary reason for this phenomenon. The fundamental idea was to create tradition anew, to keep the past attractive while promoting modernity: to preserve tradition and integrate it into a progressive continuum heading towards the future. This trend corresponded with a change of attitude towards life during the Taisho era. “Being modern,” a phrase that epitomized a carefree and exciting new attitude and

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  79

Figure 4.6  Kondō Yūzō, bulbous ribbed vase with prunus and bamboo motif, 1934. Stoneware with inlay under celadon glaze. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 6, Nittenshi 11, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 489, fig. 108.

component of intellectual debate, was increasingly affected by a cultural self-conception stamped with nationalistic values.24 This opposition to cultural and economic ideas coming from the West also resulted in a feeling of superiority over other Asian cultures. The shift had an effect on ceramics: alongside the Western techniques and styles at hand, knowledge of Chinese and Korean ceramic methods steadily expanded. Cizhou-style ceramics, sgraffito, celadon, and transmutation glazes were increasingly in demand, as were Joseon period (1392–1910) buncheong ceramic techniques and blueand-white porcelain designs.25 These Asian modes became intrinsic parts of Japanese culture. One example of an unusual “Korean” vase was shown at the fifteenth Teiten in 1934 by Kondō Yūzō (1902–1985), a regular participant in the exhibition until 1941 (fig. 4.6).26 The body features vertical segments filled with floral inlay decoration typical of Goryeo celadon ewers and bottles.27 However, neither the bulbous shape with narrow neck nor the composition of the plum and bamboo grass motif is Korean, and the glaze is perhaps a modern celadon using chemical components. What were seen as fascinating elements of Korean ceramics included their white hues, subtle grays of clay underneath transparent glaze, browns

80  Gisela Jahn or blues, loose flow of painting, the position of patterns, and the “architecture” of vessels.28 These traits were present in one of Itō Tōzan III’s vases. He reduced the complex Korean floral design to a simple, almost folk-style stroke; however, the position of the decoration in the middle of the body and the discrete coloring reveal his knowledge of Korean buncheong ceramics as well as of the subtle blue-and-white Joseon porcelain bottles of the eighteenth century. Arai Kin’ya (1884–1966) referred to Joseon porcelain even more overtly, placing pomegranates on the shoulder and over the edges of a rectangular vase, as could be seen on certain Korean vessels.29 This tendency towards square-edged shapes was most likely borrowed from the “architecture” of Joseon porcelain bottles with their vertically faceted organization and from the vertical ornamentation of earlier Goryeo celadons. The novelty of isolated patterns had to do with their particular disposition on the body of the vessel. Apart from the arrangement described above, with the decoration situated in the middle or the upper part of the vessel, vertical segmentation allowed for a greater variety of decoration. Such a vertical organization strongly contrasts with the traditional horizontal ornamentation in the base-body-shoulder-neck profile because it makes it possible to show a pattern in repetition; patterns might repeat themselves without interruption or else alternate with blank areas. In addition, segments, delimited through one or more lines, or else by ribs following the vessel curves, allow for a composition of a single flower branch and a comprehensive vertically set ornamentation of alternating patterns—not only geometric patterns in a circle or rhombus, stripes, or tendrils, but also elongated blossoms, leaves, and fruit stalks, whether stylized or naturalistic. Symmetrical leaves-and-blossoms decoration evolved into some unexpected new surface organizations, as demonstrated in Yonezawa Sohō’s (1897–1959) vase shown at the 1933 Teiten (fig. 4.7). Apart from the fact that the decoration was intended to appear in isolation, the segments resulted in planes that visually diverted from the roundness of the vessel, especially since the segments ended in a polygonal base. Whereas painted or slightly convex lines could not interfere with the shape, a flat surface, be it paddled or cut, had an impact on the wheel-turned form.

Parallels to contemporary metal craft There was a longstanding correlation between metal and ceramic vessel forms in Japan. During the Meiji era, elaborate incense burners, ewers, and various shapes borrowed from archaic bronze vessels became extremely popular. The Teiten submissions of Kyoto potters suggest that they looked not only at ancient examples but also at contemporary work by their metal-­ craft colleagues, for instance, those of the Mukei (“Formless”) Group (1926–35), which was strongly influenced by Art Deco designs. As potters in the 1910s had aligned themselves with developments in design, so in the late 1920s and early 1930s they demonstrated their status by displaying stylistic

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  81

Figure 4.7  Yonezawa Sohō, vase with floral motif, exhibited at the thirteenth Teiten, 1933.  Stoneware. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 5, Nittenshi 10, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 476, fig. 210.

similarity to metalwork. The Teiten was the perfect venue to showcase this type of work. The vertical segments of the aforementioned ceramic vessels, especially those with sharp edges, and their ornamentation reveal potters’ affinity for contemporary metal vessels. For instance, fine incisions characteristic of metal work owed their precision to the specific tool being used. The filigree lines of the decoration of vases by Kyoto potters such as Yonezawa Sohō, whether painted in blue underglaze pigment or executed in inlay, show how easily a potter could take up and adapt metal decoration into ceramics (see fig. 4.7).30 Inlay was traditionally applied to both metal craft and pottery decoration, as seen in the mishima technique inherited from Korean buncheong ware. In contrast to traditional inlay, Kyoto artists frequently used stylized floral and figural motifs in geometric pointed or angular patterns and often combined them with vertically organized geometrical patterns, similarly to contemporary metal work decorations. This approach is

82  Gisela Jahn

Figure 4.8  Miyanaga Tōzan I, vase with moth motif, Taisho era (1912–1926). Stoneware, 17 x 16 cm. Private collection.

exemplified by a white porcelain vase by the Kyoto potter and regular Teiten exhibitor, Morino Kako (1899–1987).31 Slip trailing was another characteristic pottery technique: using a bamboo tube containing liquid clay slip, the maker drew a raised line that could flow and curve. Stepping further into the metal craft domain, potters adopted slip-trailed designs showing either rigid straight lines—corresponding to the metal-like but atypical hard-edged ceramic shapes—or ornamental convoluted patterns.32 They even sought inspiration from metal embossing. The ceramic medium translated this into raised or stamped ornaments. Correspondences to metal models were well represented in Miyanaga Tōzan I’s vessels with bas-relief ornamentation, which he accentuated through an application of glaze reminiscent of bronze patina (fig. 4.8).33 During the 1920s and 1930s, the Sinophile Japanese audience was quite receptive to Ming period ewer shapes, based in turn on metal ewers from the Near East and India. Kyoto potters such as Michibayashi Toshimasa (1892–1964) succeeded in creating modern versions of traditional models. In one work he converted the elegant body into a sturdy shape with compact handles, spout, and neck and used lotus petals to segment the oval body; combined with the simplification of the formal elements, the white glaze with copper red points only on the lotus leaf veins positioned at the shoulder results in an Art Deco-like character.34 Other potters, too, took ancient

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  83 metal ewers as models and reduced their expressive shapes and decoration to become more functional: we see this in the work of Kawamura Kitarō and Kusube Yaichi, who were inspired by Chinese metal vessels of the austere Daoguang period (1820–50) as well as by Yixing ceramics.35 Another similarity to metal forms widely seen in the work of early twentieth-­c entury Kyoto potters lies in the manner in which outer volumes intersected with vessel parts, which became sharp-edged and disrupted the organic wheel-turned form. Rings inserted at the shoulder, neck, or foot transformed into pedestals, with necks sliced like discs and bodies stretched out. Vessels constructed from multiple pieces appeared. The Teiten showed many examples in this vein, not only vases but also boxes and bowls, in particular those by Kusube Yaichi and Itō Nobusuke (Tōzan III).36 The impact of metal craft indeed went further. As noted above, some of the Kyoto ceramists keenly observed the achievements of the Mukei group, founded by Takamura Toyochika, Sugita Kadō, Yamamoto Azumi, Nishimura Toshihiko, and other metal craftsmen.37 Through annual exhibitions and frequent publications, they created a vanguard program that reflected their absolute commitment to the spirit of the time. Intent on individual expression, they sought freedom from tradition and therefore focused on Art Deco shapes, and their creations were aimed at a modern, Western-oriented public.38 With the exception of the Akatsuchi group (active 1919–23), potters established no associations following similar objectives as the Mukei group before the end of World War II.39 Still, for some potters, the Mukei creations offered new formal possibilities, inviting them to trespass the bounds of traditional ceramics and follow the modern spirit. Cylindrical, square, or polygonal vases with additional bars affixed to tubular or square-end walls or placed onto the ridges, altogether interrupting the surface, emphasized a sense of construction. At the twelfth Teiten (1931), Kusube Yaichi and Itō Suiko showed vases that had no precursors in Japanese tradition, whether in metal or ceramic domains, but were based on Western models, including Western metal work (figs. 4.9, 4.10). Both makers had clearly abandoned their traditional métier of throwing. The decoration of the vases was borrowed from modern geometrical metal design. No great formal differences can be seen between Kusube and Itō’s vases and works by the metal artist Toyoda Katsuaki (1897–1972) (fig. 4.11). Unfortunately, it remains difficult to ascertain whether similarities extended to texture; whether Kusube used a metallic glaze is impossible to tell from the black and white reproduction of the work whose present location is unknown. Itō Suiko played between metal and ceramic, using a coolwhite porcelain mass. His inlaying was precise, but his color scheme from light blue to yellow poetically softened the technical qualities of the vessel. The Mukei group dissolved in 1935, for several reasons. Takamura sensed impending danger: the vessels on display were turning into pure creations of art and losing their functionality. He and a few colleagues pleaded for a return to utility and strove to combine beauty with function. When metal,

84  Gisela Jahn

Figure 4.9  Kusube Yaichi, vase, exhibited at the twelfth Teiten, 1931.  Stoneware. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 5, Nittenshi 10, Tokyo: Nitten, 1983, 280, fig. 74. 

lacquer, and textile artists including Takamura and Toyoda Katsuaki established the Existing Crafts Art Society (Jitsuzai Kōgei Bijutsukai) in 1935, they invited Kyoto potters Kawamura Kitarō and Arai Kin’ya to participate.40 A further reason for the short-lived Mukei phenomenon concerned the potters’ approach: metal vessels were more a fleeting fashion than a thorough product of formal research. Moreover, ceramic art experts never truly accepted these works, to say nothing of the customers who expected a more traditional style. Another considerable factor was the political climate. From the late 1930s onward, artists were expected to show their commitment to the nation through their work. However, potters and audiences in general found epic subjects such as war heroes—common in contemporaneous painting—to be unsuitable for Teiten ceramic submissions.41 Ceramic artists turned back towards explicitly traditional styles and themes. In Kyoto, the styles of the historical potters Nonomura Ninsei (active ca.

Figure 4.10  Itō Suiko, vase with rhombic flower motif, 1934.  Porcelain, 43 x 17.2  cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art.

Figure 4.11  Toyoda Katsuaki, square vase, 1931. Bronze, 48 x 21 cm. Ishibashi Museum.

86  Gisela Jahn 1646–77) and Ogata Kenzan (1663–1743), and even of Kyoto versions of Satsuma enameled wares popularized in the nineteenth century, lent themselves perfectly to this demand.42 Until the mid-1930s, Kyoto potters manifested an active interest in new stimuli. This attitude enabled them to create a characteristic ornamental vocabulary that reflected and perhaps even reinforced developments in other centers of ceramic production. In Tokyo and the Kantō region, most ceramic workshops dated no earlier than the Meiji era. In general, Tokyo potters active in the Taisho and early Showa eras felt few ties to traditional Japanese or Chinese styles but tended toward modernist expressions, often related to metalwork. Itaya Hazan’s affinity for Chinese porcelain was an exception, but he and his student Miyanohara Ken (1898–1977), who founded the Ceramics of the East Association (Tōtōkai), supported the aspirations of regional potters. Indeed, Kyoto potters’ outstanding modernization trends resided in their alignment with their metal colleagues. Nevertheless, in the late 1930s Kyoto’s strong affinity with historical Japanese, Korean, and Chinese ceramic styles became evident.43 The time was still to come when potters would reach out beyond the conventional scope of their profession and be willing to free themselves from its functionality. This occurred only after World War II, when the Sōdeisha group was founded under the leadership of Yagi Kazuo (1918–79). During the war, as a result of nationalistic propaganda, the ceramic mainstream turned towards a strong adherence to Japanese tradition and, unfortunately as far as the Teiten was concerned, towards conventionality.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Magdalena Kolodziej for her comments and help with editing. 2 Governmental support for fine arts in this period involved three ministries. The Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce encouraged industrial production; the Imperial Household Ministry was responsible for the preservation of early fine art; and the Ministry of Education established training facilities. 3 Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 204, 248. 4 Ibid., 306. 5 Katsumikai underwent several alterations: it was named Katsumimura in 1919, Kyōto Bijutsu Kōgeikai in 1924, Kyōbikai in 1926, returned to Katsumikai in 1935, and disbanded after a few more exhibitions. 6 Kiyomizu Rokubei V was a member of one of the foremost potter dynasties, and Itō Tōzan II had been an influential potter since the Meiji era. On Akatsuchi, see Cort, “Japanese Encounters with Clay,” 159; Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 205. 7 Ibid., 253–59. 8 The international exhibition commemorated the fifth anniversary of the end of World War I. 9 In fact, these fears were not realized. The craftsmen did not abandon the Nōten; they simultaneously showed at the Teiten for their artistic reputation while placing pieces at the Nōten in order to sell. 10 See Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 253.

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  87 11 This conundrum resulted in the intense jisaku/tasaku (made by self / made by others) debate of 1930. A piece only became a work of art if it had been designed and executed by one and only one creator. Principally, this debate concerned whether craft could be art. See Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 199–202. 12 Ibid., 255. 13 On the Matsuda Reform, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai ed., Teiten hen 12, 563–72; Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 256–58. Two exhibitions were held in 1936: the first Reorganized Teiten and the Bunten; from 1937 onwards, the exhibition was named Shin Bunten. 14 Tsujimoto, Kindai no tōkō Tomimoto Kenkichi, 154–59. 15 Before becoming independent as a potter in 1917, Sawada collaborated with Kyoto potters under his designer name Sawada Sei’ichirō. However, his ceramics were judged as showing poor craftsmanship. 16 Other potters came from the prefectures of Gifu (1 participant), Ishikawa (2), Kanagawa (1), Shizuoka (1), and Tokyo (2). 17 Transmutation (yōhen) glazes exhibit white, green, turquoise, or violet spots according to the oxides with which they were combined and their manner of firing. 18 See Uchiyama and Matsubara, eds., Godai rokudai Kiyomizu Rokubei ten, pls. 65, 66. 19 For Kawamura Seizan, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 8, 252, figs. 24–25. For Kawamura Kitarō, see ibid., 251, fig. 22. 20 Ibid., 255, fig. 48. 21 In the Yūtōen group led by the Western-style painter Asai Chū (1856–1907), Art Nouveau patterns were a focus. The potters and lacquer artists participating in the Katsumikai led by the lacquer artist and designer Kamisaka Sekka embraced the native Rinpa style. Potters such as Kiyomizu Rokubei IV and V, ­Kawamura Seizan, Kinkōzan Sōbei, Sawada Sei’ichirō, and Itō Tōzan I (1846– 1920) joined both associations. Both designers and potters trained in design worked at the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute, and their drafts became of great interest to independent potters and the porcelain industry. 22 Uchiyama and Matsubara, eds., Godai rokudai Kiyomizu Rokubei ten, ill. 69–71, 73–74, 76. 23 For design by Ella Margold, who was a member of the German “Werkbund,” see Nerdinger, 100 Jahre Deutscher Werkbund, 95–99, figs. 36, 38, 40–41. 24 See Tipton and Clark, eds., Being Modern in Japan. 25 In Japan, following the 1910 annexation of Korea, Joseon porcelain was sold in huge quantities. 26 Kondō was an assistant for wheel throwing and student at Tomimoto Kenkichi’s workshop from 1921 to 1924. On celadon glazes, see Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art, Kondō Yūzō ten, figs. 17, 20, 29. 27 Celadon with white and/or black inlay ornamentation, produced during the Goryeo dynasty (918–1392). 28 Kawai Kanjirō was fascinated by Korean ceramics, although he cannot be considered one of the “modernizers.” 29 Western-style painter Arai travelled to Korea to study in 1920 and was so fascinated by its pottery that, upon his return home, he immediately took up the ceramist’s profession. For an image of the vase, see Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 317, fig. 170. 30 In ceramics, inlay means the filling of incised lines or areas with white or colored slip. In metal work another colored metal is hammered into incisions. 31 See Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art, Kyōto no kōgei 1910–1940, 81, fig. 97. 32 For such vases by Michibayashi Toshimasa and Yonezawa Sohō, see ibid., figs. 14, 81.

88  Gisela Jahn 33 Ibid., 70, fig. 77. 34 Ibid., 33, fig. 13. 35 For Kusube Yaichi, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 6, vol. 11, 488, fig. 94. For Kawamura Kitarō, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 4, vol. 9, 268, fig. 51. 36 For Kusube Yaichi, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 5, vol. 10, p. 458, fig. 81 and Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed., Teiten hen 6, vol. 11, 273, fig. 93. For Itō Nobusuke, see Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai ed., Shin Bunten hen 2, vol. 14, 369, fig. 10. 37 Mukei also included lacquer, glass, and textile craftsmen. See Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 245; Hida, “Craft Movements in Japan around 1930,” 18–25. 38 Ibid., 18. 39 See Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 46, 199. 40 See Hida, “Craft Movements in Japan around 1930,” 24; Kida, “Jitsuzai Kōgei Bijutsukai,” 41. 41 This type of propaganda subject was popular in everyday ceramic mass production. Indeed, Takamura Toyochika harshly criticized a vase with a fighter plane displayed at the 1940 Teiten. Jahn, Japanische Keramik, 269–71. 42 Inui and Matsubara, ed., Kusube Yaichi, 47, fig. 30–31. 43 See Chiba Prefecture Art Museum, ed., Kindai tōgei no modanizumu.

References Chiba Prefecture Art Museum, ed. Kindai tōgei no modanizumu [Modernism of modern ceramics]. Chiba: Chiba Kenritsu Bijutsukan, 1991. Cort, Louise Allison. “Japanese Encounters with Clay.” In Isamu Noguchi and Modern Ceramics: A Close Embrace of the Earth, 159. Louise Allison Cort and Bert Winther-Tamaki, eds. Washington, DC: Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 2003. Hida Toyojirō. “Craft Movements in Japan around 1930.” In Modanizumu no kōgei katachi: kinkō o chūshin ni shite / Modernism and Craftsmen The 1920s to the 1930s. Tokyo: Tokyo National Museum of Modern Art, 1983. Inui Yoshiaki and Matsubara Ryūichi, eds. Kusube Yaichi ten: tōka 70nen no kirameki: seitan 100nen kinen / A Retrospective: Ceramic Works of Kusube Yaichi: The Seventy Years of Brilliance. Osaka: Mainichi Shinbunsha, 1997. Jahn, Gisela. Japanische Keramik, Aufbruch im 20. Jahrhundert: Die Bildung von Tradition, Moderne und Individualität 1900–1945. Weimar: Verlag und Datenbank für Geisteswissenschaften, 2014. Kida Takuya. “Jitsuzai Kōgei Bijutsukai 1935–1940‚ ‘yō soku bi’ no kōgei” [Existing Crafts Art Society 1935–1940: the ‘function equals beauty’ of crafts], Bulletin of the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo 13 (2009): 37–64. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art, ed. Kondō Yūzō ten: gendai tōgei no kyoshō [Kondō Yūzō exhibition: Master of modern ceramics]. Kyoto: Kyotoshi Bijutsukan, 1991. Kyoto National Museum of Modern Art, ed. Kyōto no kōgei 1910–1940 [Kyoto crafts 1910–1940]. Kyoto: Kyoto Kokuritsu Kindai Bijutsukan, 1998. Nerdinger, Winfried, ed. 100 Jahre Deutscher Werkbund 1907–2007. München: Prestel Verlag, 2007. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed. Shin Bunten hen [Shin Bunten history], 1–3. Nitten-shi [History of Nitten], 13–15. Tokyo: Nitten, 1980–88. Nittenshi Hensan Iinkai, ed. Teiten hen [Teiten history], 8, 10–12. Tokyo: Nitten, 1980–88.

Kyoto potters and the Teiten  89 Nōshōmushō, ed. Nōshōmushō dairokukai kōgei tenrankai zuroku [Catalogue of the sixth Nōshōmushō craft exhibition]. Tokyo: Gahōsha, 1925. Tipton, Elise K. and John Clark, eds. Being Modern in Japan: Culture and Society from the 1910s to the 1930s. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2000. Tsujimoto Isamu. Kindai no tōkō Tomimoto Kenkichi [Modern ceramist, Tomimoto Kenkichi]. Tokyo: Futabasha, 1999. Uchiyama Takeo and Matsubara Ryūichi, eds. Godai rokudai Kiyomizu Rokubei ten: kyōyaki kakushin no kiseki / Rokubei ­Kiyomizu V and VI: A Retrospective. Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha, 2000–2001.

5 Unifying science and art The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (1896–1920) and ceramic art education during the Taisho era Maezaki Shinya The modernization of ceramic production in Japan during the Meiji (1868– 1912) and Taisho (1912–26) eras involved significant changes in the relationship of the industry to government regulation and support. During the Edo period (1615–1868), the Japanese government had tightly controlled international trade by allowing access only to Chinese and Dutch merchants through the single small port of Nagasaki. This restriction protected the nation from Christianization for more than two centuries, but it delayed the process of industrialization. After Japan opened its ports in 1854, ceramics became one of the few industrial products that could be sold to Western markets. The Japanese government promoted and encouraged the expansion of ceramic exports in order to acquire foreign currency necessary for the development of the nation. In the late nineteenth century, the quality of Japanese ceramic wares remained relatively high, but, like other forms of industry, ceramic workshops around the country faced a number of challenges in their quest for international competitiveness. Participation in national and regional juried competitions was one means of upgrading their products and gaining recognition. In order to garner good results in such competitions, ceramists were pushed to adopt new materials and decorative styles. Moreover, the introduction of mass-produced, standardized industrial ceramics such as refractory bricks, tiles, acid-proof containers, and electric insulators required a transformation from cottage industry to factory production. These changes required investment for factories and equipment, and expenditures for research and experiments on a large scale. New schools for ceramics played important roles in the dissemination of these new ideas and practices into the tradition-bound industry. Japan’s success in rapid industrialization of ceramics production can be credited initially to the establishment of the Tokyo Vocational School (Tokyo Shokkō Gakkō) in 1881. In 1890, the school was upgraded and renamed the Tokyo Technical School; in 1901, it became the Tokyo Higher Technical School (Tokyo Kōtō Kōgyō Gakkō). Finally, in 1929, it acquired the status of university as the Tokyo Institute of Technology (Tokyo Kōgyō Daigaku).

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  91 In western Japan, the Osaka Technical School (Osaka Kōgyō Gakkō) was established in 1896 and became the Osaka Higher Technical School (Osaka Kōtō Kōgyō Gakkō) in 1901. These schools focused on training engineers specializing in industrial technologies. Their graduates became managers of large factories throughout Japan and instructors at training institutes established in centers of ceramic production, including Kyoto. Whereas most ceramic artists in Japan today are trained at art colleges and universities, many of the leading figures of the first half of the twentieth century were graduates of these technical schools. Nonetheless, the impact of the education provided by the technical schools on the history of modern Japanese ceramic art has seldom been considered. Relying on recently discovered documentation, this chapter focuses on the history and influence of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (Kyoto Shiritsu T ­ ōjiki Shikenjo, hereafter the Institute) whose early instructors were recruited from the technical schools. It was established in 1896, and a training center (Kyoto Shiritsu Tōjiki Shikenjo Fuzoku Denshūsho, hereafter the Center) was added in 1911 (fig. 5.1). Today the Institute and the Center are best remembered as the place where a number of the most celebrated Japanese ceramic artists spent their early careers. Most staff members of the Institute were not artists and did not come from Kyoto. Graduates of the technical schools in Tokyo and Osaka, they were scientists who specialized in ceramic engineering. Among them were Kawai Kanjirō (1890–1966), Hamada Shōji (1894–1978), and Komori Shinobu (1889–1962)—all known today as ceramic artists rather than ceramic engineers (fig. 5.2). They trained many students who later became leading ceramic artists of the twentieth century in Kyoto.

Figure 5.1  The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute. © Kyoto Municipal Institute of Industrial Technology and Culture.

92  Maezaki Shinya

Figure 5.2   Staff of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute, ca. 1916–1917. From left: Hamada Shōji, Fukuda Naoichi, Mihashi Kiyoshi, Komori ­Shinobu, Kawai Kanjirō, Hiraki Itaru, Takita Iwazō. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan.

This chapter will discuss the important role of the Institute and the Center in encouraging the modernization of ceramic arts in Kyoto in the early twentieth century. I will examine the techniques and designs emphasized in pedagogy and the methods of dissemination to students. My goal is to reveal the critically important relationship between science and art in the early twentieth century, as exemplified by the relationship between the scientific aspects of the school’s pedagogy and the development of artistic approaches to ceramics.

The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute Kyoto developed as one of the leading centers of ceramic production in Japan during the Edo period. Major figures in the history of Japanese ceramics who worked in Kyoto include Nonomura Ninsei (active ca. 1646–77), Ogata Kenzan (1663–1743), Okuda Eisen (1753–1811), Aoki Mokubei (1767– 1833), and Nin’ami Dōhachi (1783–1855). When international trading ports opened in 1858, ceramic wares made in Kyoto were among the first items to be exported. The Japanese government began participating in international expositions in order to expand the foreign market, and Kyoto wares were among the items selected for those occasions. Despite a growing international interest in Kyoto ceramic wares, they did not always receive satisfactory reviews. The overglaze decoration of Kyoto wares was said to be less intricate than that of other production areas. Kyoto porcelain was criticized as fragile and not as white as its European

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  93 counterparts. Despite such reviews, ceramic workshops in Kyoto were not very keen on changing or updating their traditional techniques, materials, and production processes. Instead, they simply expanded the scale of production in an effort to respond to growing demand. When Japan experienced deflation from 1881 to 1884, following the government’s introduction of the silver standard, Kyoto’s ceramic industry suffered significant damage as the result of overproduction of technically outdated wares. It is recorded that more than half of the ceramic workshops and factories in Kyoto closed down. In the late 1880s, Kyoto ceramic producers finally understood that they needed to renovate the industry fundamentally for the sake of survival. Two major factory owners, Shōfū Kajō (1870–1928) and Kinkōzan Sōbei VII (1868–1927), representing the ceramic industry of Kyoto, requested the Kyoto municipal government to establish a research facility for the purpose of modernizing the ceramic industry (fig. 5.3). The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute was founded in 1896 by the city government as the first public institution devoted entirely to research on ceramics. The Institute was situated in the heart of Kyoto’s ceramic producing district, in the northwest quadrant of the intersection of the current Higashiōji and Gojō avenues.1 Fujie Eikō (1865–1915)2 became the first director of the Institute (fig. 5.4). After his sudden death in 1915, Ueda Toyokichi (1894–1978)3 took over the position (see fig. 5.3). Both men had studied ceramic engineering in Tokyo

Figure 5.3  Celadon vase and incense burner presented to the imperial family, ca. 1915. Front row from left: Terasawa Tomotame, Shōfū Kajō, the vase and incense burner, Kinkōzan Sōbei VII, Takita Iwasō. Second row from left: Yoshijima Jirō, Fukuda Naoichi, unknown, Ueda Toyokichi, Mihashi Kiyoshi, unknown, Mekama Shinichi. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan.

94  Maezaki Shinya

Figure 5.4  Fujie Eikō, image taken from Ko Fujie Eikō kun kōseki hyōshōkai ed., Fujie Eikō den (1932).

under Gottfried Wagener (1831–1982), who is known as “the father of the modern ceramic industry of Japan.”4 This German scientist went to Nagasaki in 1868 to establish a soap factory. That project failed, but he was hired by the Saga domain to introduce artificial cobalt blue pigment and coal-fired kilns to the porcelain center of Arita. Wagener moved to Tokyo in 1870 to teach scientific subjects at the Southern School (Daigaku Nankō), a predecessor of Tokyo University. He worked for the Japanese committees of the Vienna Universal Exposition of 1873 and the Centennial International Exhibition held in Philadelphia in 1876. In 1878, he was invited by Kyoto Prefecture to work for the Academy of Chemistry (Seimi-kyoku). He returned to Tokyo in 1881 and taught ceramic engineering at the Southern School, then at the Tokyo Vocational School. He remained there until his death in 1892 and trained many ceramic specialists, including the first two directors of the Institute. Fujie and Ueda staffed the Institute by hiring the finest graduates of the technical schools in Tokyo and Osaka. In other words, only the best young scientists of the nation were chosen to work at the Institute. During the ­Institute’s 24-year history, records show that staff members conducted a total of 2,600 experiments on clays, glazes, and various new technologies,

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  95 and created 660 new designs.5 All the potters who belonged to guilds for ceramic producers and merchants in Kyoto were allowed access to the results of the experiments and the design development. The experiments undertaken by the Institute were aimed mainly at the development of new ceramic technologies and products, but specific experiments tailored to the requests of potteries were also conducted. Hamada Shōji, who joined the staff at the Institute after graduating from Tokyo Higher Technical School in 1916, described the work he undertook with Kawai Kanjirō and others who had been his seniors at the school: The work involved included the handling of raw clay, glazes, and overglaze enamels; studying the structures and firing techniques of different types of kilns; and overseeing the installation of various large and small machines [such as a trommel, edge runner, pug mill, filter press, pot mill, etc.], which were allocated to five specialists including myself.6 The results of the numerous experiments and design exercises conducted at the Institute, as well as other activities, can be summarized as follows.7 1 Introduction of machines for speeding production and standardizing the quality of materials (edge runner, trommel [revolving screen for sizing clay], pot mill [grinding mill for glazes and colors], aerograph [for painting], etc.) 2 Research on clays and glazes 2.1 Hard porcelain (acid-resistant ware, high-voltage insulators) 2.2 Hard stoneware (white ironstone ware) 2.3 Colored porcelain clay (green, yellow, ivory white, and light blue ware) 2.4 Glaze improvement (lime glaze, crystalline glaze, matte glaze, artificial cobalt, etc.) 3 Research on kilns (use of coal and gas to replace wood as fuel; research on Western kiln construction) 4 Production and distribution of Seger cones to monitor temperature in the kiln during firing 5 Research on refractory products (bricks and tiles) 6 Research on plaster and plaster molds to replace clay molds 7 Research on ceramic designs (the introduction of Western design motifs) 8 Organization of exhibitions to showcase the latest research results 9 Collecting of ceramic wares from foreign countries for display at the Institute 10 Training of students The topics 1 to 6 of the list denote new technology that contributed to the modernizing of the Kyoto ceramic industry. These achievements are important, but the production and distribution of Seger cones for monitoring

96  Maezaki Shinya kiln firing temperatures was particularly significant. The Institute distributed Seger cones for free to workshops and factories in Kyoto, and their use greatly improved the success rate of firing. The Institute also undertook extensive tests on glazes. Hamada Shōji recorded that he tested, over about a three-year period, 10,000 samples for artificial cobalt blue, 5,000 for celadon, 3,000 for copper red, and 2,000 for tenmoku.8 The results were shared with potters in Kyoto, and the Institute took orders from potters and prepared the needed glazes. Furthermore, the Institute played the main role in spreading the use of plaster molds in Japan, spending ten years on the development of plaster best suited for ceramic production molds. Plaster was introduced to Japan in the early Meiji era, but the supply was dependent on imports from Germany and the United States. The quality of imported plaster varied and the supply was not sufficient for the demand. With financial support from the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce, the Institute succeeded in producing domestic plaster in 1917. Thereafter, the use of plaster molds for ceramic production spread throughout the nation. Topics 7 to 9 of the list denote research on designs using the latest design motifs from Europe. In addition to the work at the Institute, Fujie and ­K ikuchi Samatarō (Sokū, 1879–1922), a staff member of the Institute specializing in ceramic decoration, participated in founding a ceramic design study group, Yūtōen, in 1906. The group was advocated and chaired by the well-known oil painter Asai Chū (1856–1907), a professor at the Kyoto Higher School of Industrial Arts (Kyoto Kōtō Kōgei Gakkō, predecessor of Kyoto Institute of Technology). Many heads of prominent ceramic workshops, including Kinkōzan Sōbei VII, Itō Tōzan I (1846–1920), Miyanaga Tōzan I (1868–1941), and Kiyomizu Rokubei V (1875–1959), joined the group. The Rinpa-style painter Kamisaka Sekka (1866–1942) was also a member. They held monthly meetings on the second floor of the main building of the Institute. They created innovative ceramic works with new designs including ones inspired by the Rinpa style and Western-style designs such as Art ­Nouveau (figs. 5.5, 5.6, 5.7, and 5.8). In 1911 the Tokyo-based ceramic artist Itaya Hazan (1872–1963) praised the Institute’s contribution to the development of the Kyoto ceramic industry as follows: It is noteworthy that Kyoto’s ceramic ware has been going through great changes recently. One such change is taking place at the city’s Ceramic Research Institute, for the purpose of making effective contacts with manufacturers. In other words, everything that is being researched at the Institute is reported to manufacturers, who immediately use the research as a reference for creating new ideas. This procedure sometimes leads to the creation of ceramic works of unconventional style. Such ongoing experimentation is a great driving force behind the transformation of Kyoto’s ceramic industry.9

Figure 5.5  Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Itō Tōzan I). Bowl with ­Momoyama-style willow tree and bridge, 1917–1920. Stoneware with underglaze blue and black with overglaze enamels. Private collection.

Figure 5.6   Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). ­Majolica vase with a peasant digging potatoes, 1900–1920. Stoneware with polychrome enamels. Private collection.

Figure 5.7  Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). Vase with saxifrage, 1900–1920. Stoneware with underglaze polychrome decoration and gold. Private collection.

Figure 5.8  Ceramic ware possibly designed by Yūtōen (Kinkōzan Sōbei VII). Vase with farfugium, 1900–1920. Green stoneware with underglaze polychrome decoration. Private collection.

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  99 Hazan is known for his signature matte glaze, hokō-yū. He was a lecturer in the ceramics department of the Tokyo Higher Technical School, but the school’s curriculum focused on education, unlike the Institute, where staff specialists devoted their time to the improvement of ceramics. Hazan depended on his work alone for the development of his ceramic materials and techniques, and he must have envied the potters in Kyoto with their access to the Institute. As a result of these distinguished achievements, the Institute’s jurisdiction was transferred from the city of Kyoto to the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce in 1920, creating a national institution.10

The Training Center of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute The Institute’s first director, Fujie Eikō, began accepting students in 1899 through an education scheme that became a great success. It subsequently led to the establishment in 1911 of the Institute’s Training Center. The technical staff of the Institute provided instruction at the Center. The curriculum was formed for training ceramic specialists to become future leaders of the ceramic industry. The Center trained some 130 young ceramists over the years, including many leading ceramic artists of the twentieth century such as Kiyomizu Rokubei V, Takahashi Dōhachi IV (1881–1941), Itō Suiko (1894–1980, the son-in-law of Itō Tōzan II), Yagi Issō (1894–1973, father of Yagi Kazuo), Kawamura Kitarō (1899–1966), and Kusube Yaichi (1897– 1984). These students not only studied the latest ceramic techniques but also helped with various experiments at the Institute. Despite its historical importance, very few records of the Center have survived. Due to a series of reorganizations of national research centers over the years, most of the historical documents have been lost. Surviving materials from the Institute and the Center are now owned by the National Institute of Advanced Industrial Science and Technology (Sangyō Gijutsu Sōgō Kenkyūsho) and the Aichi Prefectural Ceramic Museum (Aichi-ken Tōji Bijutsukan) in Seto. As a result, finding details of the education system practiced at the Institute and the Center has been challenging.11 In 2010, an important discovery uncovered several boxes full of documents belonging to a Center trainee, Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke (1894– 1932, fig. 5.9), at the Asahi pottery,12 operated by his relatives in Uji, south of Kyoto. Matsubayashi is known for his contributions to the early development of the Leach Pottery in St Ives, UK. During the two years from 1922 to 1924, he built a Japanese-style climbing kiln and trained Leach’s first students, Michael Cardew (1901–83) and Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie (1895–1985).13 Prior to his travels to the United Kingdom, he had studied at the Center for three years. In 1916, he entered the two-year Ceramic Decoration Course (Tōga-ka). Having received excellent marks, he was permitted to change to the Special Course (Tokubetsu-ka) from the second year. The

100  Maezaki Shinya

Figure 5.9  Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke, 1923. © Asahi Pottery.

curriculum of the Special Course was designed to give well-rounded academic training to ceramic specialists. Students were taught not only mathematics and physics in relation to ceramic engineering but also clay and glaze formulas, kiln structures, and firing procedures. Thanks to the discovery of the Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke Archive, we now have more detailed insights into the education system at the Center. We can also see how the Center prepared a trainee such as Matsubayashi to make key contributions to Leach’s pottery operation. Matsubayashi left two diaries, which he wrote during the years 1916–1917, as well as notes from the various classes he took and experiments he conducted.14 The materials in the archives are as follows: Diaries: Lecture notes:

1916*, 1917*  eramic engineering*, Ceramic engineering No. 2*, C Climbing kiln by Hamada sensei*, Plaster molds by Mihashi sensei*, Ironstone ceramics by Yamauchi sensei, Physics, Extracurricular, Glaze formulas Experiment reports:  Ceramic body, Glaze experiment No. 1, Glaze experiment No. 2, Overglaze enamels, Majolica, Ironstone

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  101 ceramics (results of clay and glaze experiments), Kiln firing Research reports:  Measurements of climbing kilns in Kyoto*, Report on the ceramic industry in Ishikawa Prefecture, Report on the Kyushu ceramic industry Examination of the above materials has revealed key information about education on ceramics at the Center during the Taisho era. The curriculum of the Ceramic Decoration Course focused on training in painting skills. The Center was open from Monday through Saturday, and seven hours of class were offered each day. In 1916, during his first year of training, Matsubayashi took a great variety of classes. The numbers indicate the hours per week for subjects in the Ceramic Decoration Course during his first year in 1916.15 Ceramic Decoration: 18 Use of Paintbrushes: 5 Drawing: 4 Physics: 2 Literature: 2 Ceramic Design: 1 Ceramic Engineering: 1 Chemistry: 1

English: 1 Japanese Composition: 1 Art History: 1 Moral Training: 1 Calligraphy: 1 Calculation on the Abacus: 1 Physical Exercise: 1

Students taking the course spent 27 out of 41 hours of classes per week on drawing or painting on ceramics. Classes on drawing and the use of paintbrushes were taught by a professional painter, Shibahara Kishō (1885–1954). Shibahara was a pupil of Takeuchi Seihō (1864–1942) and worked as an assistant lecturer at the Kyoto City School of Art and Craft (Kyoto Shiritsu Bijutsu Kōgei Gakkō). As the Center was operated by the city, professional painters were sent from the city-run art school. Ceramic painting, on the other hand, was taught by Yoshijima Jirō, who was among the full-time staff of the Institute (fig. 5.3). By contrast, the curriculum of the Special Course, to which Matsubayashi shifted in his second year, was quite different and focused on imparting key ceramic technology. For his two years in this course, Matsubayashi learned the actual making of ceramics. His weekly schedule in 1917 included the following classes:16 Experiments: 10 Ceramic Decoration: 5 Wheel Throwing: 5 Modeling: 4 Drawing: 3 English: 3

Mathematics: 2 Physics: 2 Use of Paintbrushes: 2 Ceramic Design: 2 Ceramic Engineering: 1

102  Maezaki Shinya Students would spend ten hours per week on experiments, which were mainly test firings for formulations of clays and glazes, and three to five hours on ceramic painting, wheel throwing, sculpture, and drawing. One hour each week covered ceramic engineering. The students were also taught English, mathematics, biology, and physics in relation to ceramics. A specialist taught each course, and most lecturers were on the staff of the Institute. It is important to note again that about half of the Institute staff were graduates or former lecturers of the Tokyo Higher Technical School (hereafter the THTS; fig. 5.10). They all were either experienced lecturers or the very best graduates, such as Osuka Shinzō (1888–1964), who was Matsubayashi’s supervisor. Osuka, Kawai, and Hamada were employed by the Institute after their graduation from the THTS. Takita Iwazō (dates unknown) and Kawasaki Masao (dates unknown) taught at the THTS for some time before joining the Institute. They taught advanced scientific approaches to ceramic production, and their curricula at the Center would have been quite similar to the ones they had followed at the THTS. Hamada once said that he taught mathematics, which he had learned at the THTS.17 In his diary Matsubayashi describes Kawasaki’s class on biology as “in the style of the THTS—proceeds very fast.”18 Thus, the education that students of the Special Course at the Center received appears to resemble that provided at the THTS, one of the most prestigious technical schools of Japan. The main difference between the THTS and the Center was the background of the students. Ceramic engineering was at the time (and still is today) a very important part of industrial development. The Ceramics ­Department of the THTS provided specialists for industrial manufacturers,

Figure 5.10   The Tokyo Higher Technical School, ca. 1914. © Kawai Kanjirō Kinenkan.

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  103 and ceramic components such as insulators, acid-proof containers, and refractory bricks were crucial in maintaining large industrial factories. By contrast, the Center was training the sons of ceramic artists or ceramic ware manufacturers in Kyoto. Before the establishment of the Center, access to a scientific understanding of ceramic materials was very limited. Even if owners of ceramic enterprises were interested in experimenting with new materials and techniques, the small cottage-type operations often did not allow them to undertake expensive experiments. This was the reason for the establishment of the Institute. The situation did not change quickly, however, as many artists and manufacturers did not trust the new materials and techniques suggested by the Institute. Changes occurred only after the establishment of the Center and after the sons of the artists and manufacturers began to graduate from the Center. These young men were the first Kyoto ceramic artists who understood scientifically how and why ceramic ware was produced in the kiln. At their family workshops or factories, they demonstrated the importance of scientific knowledge to improve the quality of products. Kiyomizu Rokubei V was a graduate of the Center and went on to become a major figure in the Kyoto ceramic world from his base in his family’s workshop. His signature ware, tairei-ji, chrome pink ware, was the result of what he had learned from the Institute’s experiments. He later said: “The Center sowed good seeds by training students, guiding them to develop and continue their research, and bringing about the success of the Kyoto ceramic art that has continued to this day.”19 The Institute and its affiliated Center produced numerous ceramic artists and kiln specialists for the modern era. Without such achievements as the high standard of experiments and the education and training of outstanding students, the transfer of the Institute and its Center to national jurisdiction might not have been possible. The education and training provided at the Center taught students the making of ceramic ware from the very basics to the highest level. Students studied physics, chemistry, and mathematics as knowledge for ceramic making, while acquiring practical skills such as the blending of raw clay and glazes, the structure of kilns and associated firing methods, the making of potter’s wheels and plaster molds, and the design of innovative works. Equipped with such experiences, the graduates chose their own paths, embarking on a professional life in the fast-developing fields of ceramic industry or ceramic art. In 1920, the Institute and the Center became the National Kyoto Ceramic Research Institute (Kokuritsu Kyoto Tōjiki Shikenjo) and continued to provide scientific training for ceramic artists. In 1949, the ceramics department was established in the Kyoto City College of Arts (Kyoto Shiritsu Bijutsu Senmon Gakkō), which became the Kyoto City University of Arts (Kyoto Shiritsu Geijutsu Daigaku) in the following year. The first professor of the department was Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963). This was the first ceramic course set within an art college

104  Maezaki Shinya in Japan. From then on, graduates from art colleges gradually became the mainstream of ceramic artists in Japan. Until the establishment of ceramics departments in colleges and universities, however, technical schools such as the THTS and the Center were the only places where young students could learn the scientific bases for producing ceramic wares. Inevitably, many of the leading ceramic artists from the early twentieth century were graduates of those schools. Although they might have called themselves “artists,” they had a background in science; not surprisingly, they were drawn to new materials and glazes. It was from this perspective that Itaya Hazan’s original matte glaze, Kiyomizu Rokubei V’s chrome pink ware, and Komori Shinobu’s interest in recreating historical Chinese glazes were praised highly. Hamada and Kawai, on the other hand, turned their focus to ceramics within the context of the Folk Craft Movement (Mingei Undō) after leaving the Institute and becoming independent ceramic artists. Their choices should be seen as a form of rebellion against the field of ceramic art of the first half of the twentieth century, which placed undue emphasis on scientific techniques at the expense of artistic quality.

Notes 1 A small stone plaque marks the location. 2 Ko Fujie Nagataka kun koseki hyoshokai, ed., Fujie Nagataka den. 3 Aichiken Tōji Shiryōkan, ed., Japanīzu dezain no chōsen, 70–77. 4 Aichiken Tōji Shiryōkan, ed., Kindai yōgyō no chichi. 5 Kyoto City, ed., Seigansho. 6 Hamada, Kama ni makasete, 65. 7 The list is created based on Tōjiki Shikenjo, ed., Shōkōshō shokan Tōjiki Shikenjo gyōseki taiyō, 33–37, and Ko Fujie Nagataka kun koseki hyoshokai, ed., Fujie Nagataka den, 62–66. 8 Hamada, Kama ni makasete, 66. 9 Itaya, “Kyoto fukin no tōki to sono tokuchō 1.” 10 Kamatani, “Kyoto-shi Tōjiki Shikenjo Meiji 29-Taisho 9 II.” 11 The list of surviving materials is in Maezaki, Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku, 7. 12 The Asahi pottery has been in continuous production over 400 years, through 16 generations of the Matsubayashi family. From the time of the founder, Tōsaku, the Asahi workshop has provided tea bowls treasured for preparing whipped tea to nobility, warrior rulers, and tea masters. 13 Maezaki, “Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke and British Studio Pottery.” 14 Materials with * are reprinted in Maezaki, Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku. 15 Maezaki, Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku, 27. 16 Maezaki, Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku, 29–30. 17 Hamada, Kama ni makasete, 64. 18 Maezaki, Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku, 176. 19 Kiyomizu Rokubei V, “Kōjin no shi.”

References Aichiken Tōji Shiryōkan, ed. Japanīzu dezain no chōsen: Sansōken ni nokoru shisaku to korekushon [Challenge for Japanese design: Test works and collection remaining in the Industrial Research Institute]. Aichi: Aichiken Tōji Shiryōkan, 2009.

Unifying science and art: Ceramic education  105 ———. Kindai yōgyō no chichi Gottofurīto Waguneru to bankoku hakurankai [The father of modern ceramics: Gottfried Wagener and the international expositions]. Aichi: Aichiken Tōji Shiryōkan, 2004. Hamada Shōji. Kama ni makasete [Leaving it to the kiln]. Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha shuppan kyoku, 1976. Itaya Hazan, “Kyoto fukin no tōki to sono tokuchō 1” [Ceramics in the Kyoto area and their characteristics 1]. Bijutsu no Nihon 3, no. 11 (1911): 20–21. Kamatani Chikayoshi. “Kyoto-shi Tōjiki Shikenjo Meiji 29 – Taisho 9 II” [Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute 1896–1925 II]. Kagakushi kenkyū 41 (1987): 153–60. Kiyomizu Rokubei V. “Kōjin no shi” [Death of a craftsman], in Ko Fujie Nagataka kun kōseki hyōshōkai ed., Fujie Nagataka den, 40. Ko Fujie Nagataka kun kōseki hyōshōkai, ed. Fujie Nagataka den [Biography of Fujie Nagataka]. Kyoto: Ko Fujie Nagataka kun kōseki hyōshōkai, 1932. Kyoto City, ed. Seigansho [Written petitions]. Kyoto: Kyoto City, 1917. Maezaki Shinya. “Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke and British Studio Pottery: Letters from Bernard Leach, Michael Cardew, Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie and Ada Mason (1922–28),” Transactions: English Ceramic Circle 22 (2011): 117–48. ———. Taisho jidai no kōgei kyōiku: Kyoto Shiritsu Tōjiki Shikenjo fuzoku Denshūjo no kiroku [Craft education in the Taisho era: Records of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute Training Center]. Kyoto: Miyaobi Shuppansha, 2014. Tōjiki Shikenjo ed. Shōkōshō shokan Tōjiki Shikenjo gyōseki taiyō [Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute achievements in the Chamber of Industry records]. Kyoto: Tōjiki Shikenjo, 1932.

Part III

6 The spark that ignited the flame Hamada Shōji, Paterson’s Gallery, and the birth of English studio pottery Julian Stair In 1920, the aspiring young potter Hamada Shōji (1894–1978) left his job at the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute and set off on the long voyage to England with Bernard Leach (1887–1979), one of his “grand champions of pottery.”1 Leach had asked Hamada to help him create a new “semi-­ Oriental type of pottery” in the harbor town and burgeoning artists’ colony of St Ives in the county of Cornwall, southwestern England.2 The move marked the beginning of Hamada’s lifelong journey into potting. It also had wider ramifications for the development of global ceramic practice, for Hamada and Leach stepped off the boat into a volatile period of English art when modernism, antiquarian connoisseurship, and new forms of creative practice were beginning to coalesce. What was impossible to predict was that this young Japanese potter would give form to these latent forces through his two exhibitions in 1923 at the Paterson Gallery at 5 Old Bond Street, the center of London’s art world (fig. 6.1).

Figure 6.1  Hamada Shōji, bowl, Leach Pottery, St Ives, UK, ca. 1922–1923.  Earthenware with incised decoration through white slip and brown glaze, 18.2  x 6.5  cm. © Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), London. Hama­da made this bowl at the Leach Pottery in St Ives and showed it at the ­Paterson Gallery, where the V&A purchased it.

Roger Fry describes pottery as abstract art 1914

Ben & Winifred Nicholson Paterson's May 1923

Bernard Leach Cotswold Gallery 1922

7 & 5 Society Paterson's November 1923

Bernard Rackham classes pottery as abstract sculpture Leach Paterson's 1926

Reginald Wells Beaux Arts 1927

Leach stoneware Beaux Arts 1928

LeachSlipware New Handworkers ' 1928

PAINTING & SCULPTURE

7 & 5 Society Paterson's December 1924

English Pottery BernardRackham& Herbert Read 1924

Murray describes pottery as abstract art 1925

Murray, Ben Nicholson, Christopher Wood Beaux Arts Gallery 1927

Nicholson proposes Murray for 7 & 5 Society 1927

Ben and Winifred Nicholson, Murray Beaux Arts 1928

Murray exhibits annually at 7 & 5 Society and becomes treasurer exhibition England 1935

7 & 5 Society

Murray Murray Murray Murray Murray Murray Paterson's 1924 Paterson's 1925 Paterson's 1926 Paterson's 1927 Paterson's 1928 Paterson's 1929

Leach,Hamada & Cardew Paterson's 1925

Reginald Wells Beaux Arts 1925

Figure 6.2  Timeline of early studio pottery, related exhibitions, events, and publications.

ROGER FRY & OMEGA

Fry becomes Omega potter Omega closed 1915 1919

Roger Fry The Art of Pottery Burlington 1914

William Staite Murray exhibits Arts League of Service 1919

First broadsheet review of studio pottery Hamada by Charles Marriot Times 1923

STUDIO POTTERY

Hamada's exhibitions at Paterson's Gallery, Bond Street, London May & November 1923

George Eumorfopoulos purchased George Murrays' work Eumorfopoulos purchases Hamada's work

Early English Early Chinese Early Chinese Earthenware Art Paterson's Pottery & Porcelain Chinese Art Burlington Fine Arts Club Paterson's Burlington Fine Arts Club 1920 1911 1910 1914

ANTIQUARIANISM

Roger Fry founded Omega Workshops 1913

Roger Fry review of the Chinese Exhibition The Nation 1910

George Eumorfopoulos antiquarian collector and main lender

The spark that ignited the flame  111 As part of the constant ebb and flow of knowledge and artistic exchange between Europe and East Asia, Hamada would provide the spark to ignite the new, as yet unknown genre of studio pottery in Western visual art. The result was the birth of a new kind of autonomous artist working in clay, the studio potter (fig. 6.2).

Hamada and Leach Hamada was still at school when he first saw Bernard Leach’s pots in the Mikasa Gallery, Tokyo, where they were exhibited alongside the work of ­Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963), his other “grand champion.”3 After he had begun working in Kyoto, Hamada traveled by overnight train to T ­ okyo to see a number of Leach’s shows and, during an exhibition at the Café ­Ruisseau Gallery, Kanda, finally overcame his reticence and approached Leach. Leach invited him to visit his workshop in Abiko, northeast of Tokyo, on the estate of his friend Yanagi Sōetsu (1889–1961), a writer and member of the Shirakaba group. Leach was in need of technical help, and Hamada was more than prepared to share his expertise with the older potter. “Here was someone who could tell me why such and such a thing happened—what reduction firing was, for example,” recalled Leach. “I had not met anyone yet with whom I could fully communicate as a potter.”4 During his threeday stay, Hamada met Yanagi and also the writer Shiga Naoya for the first time. “Technically, I had a lot to say about pottery, but on the whole it was I who had much to learn from this group of people.”5 Shortly after Hamada’s visit, the pottery and all of Leach’s papers including his glaze recipes were destroyed in a kiln shed fire. A new workshop was built in Tokyo on land provided by the painter Kuroda Seiki, who also gave Leach financial support and supplied “one experienced potter and a boy to do odd jobs,” while Hamada offered technical advice and helped source essential raw ingredients.6 The calamity of the fire had kindled an enduring bond between the two potters that would last for the next 50 years. Hamada had long aspired to become a potter, attending Tokyo Higher Technical School because it was the only institution in Tokyo to teach ceramics and because the “apprentice system was a thing of the past; there was no appropriate master.”7 However, he received only two weeks’ tuition in throwing, as the course mainly focused on technical ceramic manufacture. After graduation he and his great friend Kawai Kanjirō (1890–1966) got jobs at the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute. The two also became self-taught potters, working together in a rented studio in their spare time. After four years’ employment in Kyoto, where Hamada had completed thousands of tests researching Chinese glazes, the prospect of helping Leach set up a new practicing pottery in St Ives was enormously attractive. “We Japanese were very impressed with … this British stability, the solidness of tradition, not being whipped around by fashion.”8 Hamada also had a role model in Tomimoto, whom he and Kawai had visited regularly on Sundays

112  Julian Stair since 1916. Tomimoto had traveled in Europe and spent two years in London between 1908 and 1910. “His way of thinking and his talk were extremely interesting and opened many windows for me.”9 Independent travel away from the official constraints of government sponsorship could only broaden Hamada’s horizons. In going to England with Leach, he was joining a select group of potters. “There were no others, I felt, who equaled these two, and I knew that there was no better time to start my own potting.”10 Leach chose to locate in Cornwall because he had secured a substantial loan and a modest stipend from a patron, Mrs. Frances Horne, who supported various local craft enterprises. The first reference to the new pottery in the English press appeared in December 1920 in The Pottery G ­ azette and Glass Trade Review. It was described as “a branch of the St Ives’ Handicraft Guild, the object of which is to promote hand work rather than ­machine-craft.”11 But the reality of hand-making without the professional help available in Japan, or the moral support of his intellectual peers such as Yanagi, proved challenging for Leach, who found himself isolated, struggling with a young family and in an indifferent artistic climate. Hamada became more soul mate than assistant. Together, they built “the kiln, the workrooms, the house—much of it with our own hands—then digging the clays, chopping the wood to fuel the kiln, making pots, and experimenting, and finally exhibiting in London and Tokyo.”12 Leach said he gained “a glimpse of the condition of mind as well as insight into the practical techniques of the earlier Oriental potters.”13 Hamada simply said that “on the technical side, I could be of help.”14

Emergence of British studio pottery Leach and Hamada arrived in England in what was effectively a period of proto-studio pottery. The Arts and Crafts movement had faltered with the death of key figures such as William Morris and John Ruskin at the turn of the century and was evolving into new organizations such as the Design Industries Association, which promoted reform through industrial design with the slogan “fitness for purpose.” Ceramics had only ever been a minor discipline within the Arts and Craft movement in contrast to more prominent practices such as architecture, furniture, and textiles. Its main protagonist, William de Morgan, who was essentially a pattern designer relying on skilled technicians to produce his forms, had abandoned designing in 1907 to pursue a more successful career as a novelist. The term “studio potter” was coined much later, in 1923, in the obituary of Robert Wallace Martin, where he was described as “the first pioneer in the remarkable development of studio pottery which is now taking place in this country.”15 However, although the four Martin Brothers (active 1873–1915) prefigured the creative autonomy and technical self-sufficiency of later studio potters, their salt glaze, high-fired stoneware and modeled birds owed more to Victorian decorative sensibility and love of the grotesque.16

The spark that ignited the flame  113 During the war-torn decade of the 1910s, pottery practice outside of industry consisted of a mix of small-scale “art potteries,” such as the ­Ruskin Pottery, the Omega Workshops (which will be discussed later), and a handful of proto-studio potters who rejected the notion of division of labor between design and artisanal production by unifying all stages of making, a creative practice described by the potter and teacher Dora Billington (1890–1968) as “[t]he brain which conceives the pot controls the making of it.”17 George J. Cox, the founder of the Mortlake Pottery in around 1910, heralded many later developments in studio pottery by throwing reductive forms with monochromatic glazes derived from early Chinese ceramics. He also wrote and illustrated the first practical manual of the modern era, Pottery, for Artists, Craftsmen & Teachers, championing naïve or “primitive” work for its authenticity.18 Notably, he was the first to cite Song dynasty (960–1279) pottery as a source of inspiration: “To the scientific critic I would offer a hundred books with a thousand different compounds; amongst none of them will he find how to make a Sung bowl.”19 Two other figures from this early phase of independent ceramics managed to make the transition to the interwar years as significant potters. Reginald Wells (1877–1951) trained as a sculptor at the Royal College of Art, producing modeled bronze and ceramic figures, but he also took throwing lessons at Camberwell School of Art, London, and in the late 1900s became the first potter to revive English slipware in Wrotham, Kent, southeast England, an area of continuous pottery production since the seventeenth century.20 In 1910 Wells moved his pottery to London, initially making high-fired glazed earthenware, but by the end of the decade he was making Chinese-inspired stoneware that he inscribed and titled “Soon” (although he denied it was an intentional allusion to Song). William Staite Murray (1881–1962), the other great potter of this era, developed his ceramic career via the fine art world of London’s avant-garde. He worked with the Vorticist Cuthbert Hamilton and exhibited with artists such as Paul Nash in the Arts League of Service. This organization of “long haired men and short haired women,” as it was later described, attempted to foster relations between contemporary art and drama and the British public.21 Disassociating himself from vernacular craft, Murray emphatically placed pottery as an artistic practice and intermediary between painting and sculpture. As a result, he became the most successful potter of the interwar years, exhibiting in prestigious London galleries alongside artists such as Ben Nicholson and Barbara Hepworth and associations such as the 7 & 5 Society.22 A few key women potters were among this early group, but they failed to gain the recognition they deserved. The pottery designer Frances Richards went on to find greater success as a painter and illustrator. Others, such as Billington, took up educational roles. First head of ceramics at the Royal College, she went on to establish the ceramics department at Central School of Art and Design, which would produce a generation of significant potters after World War II.

114  Julian Stair Opportunities to exhibit any type of handmade pottery in the early 1920s were very limited. The triumvirate of gallery endorsement, critical appreciation, and museum validation necessary for public recognition had yet to develop, and the rarefied world of “collecting” ceramics was confined to antiquarian connoisseurship. The handful of early studio potters had few options to promote this embryonic work and out of necessity exhibited through existing artistic groupings. Leach looked mainly to Arts and Crafts organizations, showing in 1921 at a range of modest venues, from a local gallery in St Ives to the Mansard Gallery in Heal’s department store in London, the latter with Hamada.23 In the early 1920s he had to make do with a series of fairs and events such as the annual handicraft exhibition of the Home Arts and Industries Association, where he showed a range of both ornamental and useful work in earthenware, stoneware, and porcelain. Stoneware and galena-glazed earthenware pottery eventually became the twin pillars of Leach’s interwar identity, but due to financial pressures he also produced Raku style pots at St Ives for the tourist trade in the first years of the pottery.24 Press coverage of studio pottery during this period tended to occur in minor magazines or trade journals, as the art press had not yet acknowledged it as a credible artistic discipline. In 1921, the Pottery and Glass Record reviewed the St Ives Handicraft Guild fair, describing Leach’s work as “[p]ossibly the most outstanding exhibit” with its mix of “Eastern and old-­English stoneware.” Credit was given to “Mr Leach and his thrower’s acquaintance [presumably Hamada] with the forms of the Extreme Orient.”25 Leach habitually stressed his credentials to decode and re-interpret Oriental traditions through his birth in Hong Kong and training in Japan, attributing to Hamada only a supporting role. Responses were generally positive, as with Leach’s 1922 exhibition of pots and etchings at the Arts and Crafts Cotswold Gallery in Soho, London. The minor magazine Arts Gazette stated he was “no slavish copyist,” finding “Oriental influence combined with personal distinction,” although the literary magazine New Age felt Leach’s passion for a country not “his own” was “very sad.”26

Hamada at Paterson’s Gallery Despite Leach’s endeavors, it was Hamada who broke into the art world in May 1923 with a solo exhibition at the Paterson Gallery at 5 Old Bond Street.27 In the transcript of the three months of conversation between Leach and Hamada that led to the 1975 publication of Hamada, Potter, Hamada recalled how the first contemporary studio pottery show to be held in the heart of London’s art district came about: Three years had passed, and we wanted to do something to show the result of those years of effort … I had gone into this very quiet gallery, called the Paterson Gallery, and sitting there was a fine old man. I was impressed with him, so I approached him saying that I wanted to exhibit there. He  replied that it was a very rare thing to have a pottery

The spark that ignited the flame  115 exhibition, but since it was a very interesting proposal, he would take it on and so he did.28 In early 1923 there was no precedent for serious coverage of studio pottery in the mainstream English press. However, Hamada managed to achieve critical recognition for the discipline almost overnight with a review in The Spectator, an influential literary “weekly.” The Scottish critic and painter William McCance noted the individuality of the works: “Each pot is as unique as a good piece of sculpture,” contrasting them with “‘easel pictures’ of sad mediocrity.” McCance continued, “His designs are never flamboyant. There is always an economy of force in them which is not only a constructional, but also an aesthetic necessity.”29 Hamada was fully aware of the importance of McCance’s review: The exhibition sold very well—it was reported in the newspaper, the clipping was sent from one person to another in letters, telling each quietly that such an exhibition was being held, and slowly but surely the news spread and the whole show went quite well.30 Sales were made to the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) and to the most important collector of the period, George Eumorfopoulos (1863–1939), a distinguished collector of European porcelain and early Chinese art, and president and co-founder of the Oriental Ceramic Society.31 Henry Bergson, the American academic and collector, wrote to Leach, “Hamada’s exhibition is going to be a great success. Many people came today and quite a number of pieces were sold. Winkworth (W) came early and bought some nice pots.”32 Michael Cardew (1901–83), Leach’s first student, recalled that “it created a sensation and became a landmark for years afterwards.”33 Hamada’s pottery received such a favorable reception that Paterson invited him to exhibit again in November that year. Leach commented that the second show “was a great success. It made an impression in England that has lasted for years.”34 Hamada recalled: “The whole exhibition was so successful that only three pieces remained.”35 Significantly, Hamada’s became the first studio pottery exhibition to be reviewed, albeit briefly, in the national press. In “Anglo-Japanese Pottery,” The Times’s art critic Charles Marriot identified the movement’s defining feature—a synthesis of the Orient and Occident through the blending of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean stoneware and vernacular English earthenware. Marriot identified many of the core principles that would characterize Hamada and Leach’s work during the interwar period. He established that Hamada “made and designed” the pots, commented on the use of local materials, and discussed how his assimilation of “traditional” British forms was mediated by “the more gracious idiom of the East.”36 Hamada’s 1923 exhibitions established a critical momentum that benefited studio pottery in general and Leach in particular, whose exhibition at the Cotswold Gallery on Frith Street, Soho, in November 1923 was also

116  Julian Stair favorably reviewed by Marriot, who suggested that studio pottery had the potential to provide a credible alternative to the amateurism of Arts and Crafts pottery. In these days when the only alternative to commercial production would seem to be a rather gim-crack [sic] ‘craftsmanship,’ it is a pleasure to come upon pottery so artistic and yet so professional in the right sense of the word.37 McCance also covered Leach’s show in The Spectator, following this a few weeks later with an article comparing Leach and Hamada’s work, published just after Hamada’s second show opened at Paterson’s.38 In “The Art of Pottery,” he gave full weight to the premise that pottery warranted equal treatment with painting and sculpture. Until recently it has been quite understandable why unuseful [sic] pottery has not been seriously considered as belonging to the sphere of art and has been relegated to the region of knick-knack. But with the revival of the craft as it is practiced by men like Mr. Bernard Leach and Mr. Shoji Hamada, we are now forced to give to pottery a place amongst the arts; for there is no doubt that both of these potters can be ranked as artists of exceptionally high merit.39 Hamada’s work from his two 1923 shows at the Paterson Gallery is exceptionally well represented in British museum collections, totaling 17 works complete with provenance linking them to some of the most eminent collectors of the period. Nine pots were purchased directly from Paterson’s by the collector and architect Sydney Kyffin Greenslade, who was Consulting ­Curator to the Aberystwyth University Arts and Crafts Museum.40 The V&A has five pieces, including a bowl purchased directly from the gallery in 1923 (see fig. 6.2), bowls donated by Greenslade and the collector William Winkworth, and a bowl and a bottle gifted by Leach in 1927.41 York Art Gallery has three pieces, given by the leading collector of interwar studio pottery, Eric Milner-White, who later gifted the remainder of his 37 Hamadas along with the rest of his collection. Such an exceptional body of work presents a window into Hamada’s thinking and practice at the outset of his career. Drawing on a wide range of historical exemplars from Chinese meiping bottle forms to vernacular English slipware and Korean Goryeo dynasty bowls, Hamada’s 1923 output reveals the nature and scope of his experimentations at St Ives and concomitant search for an identity. However, the core techniques of oxide decoration over glaze, wax resist, glaze trailing, and brushwork decoration are indicators of a creative approach that would characterize his mature work. The Great Kantō Earthquake of September 1923 brought Hamada’s stay in Britain to an end. As the oldest son he felt it was his duty to return to Japan and help his family recover from one of the worst natural disasters

The spark that ignited the flame  117 in Japan’s history. In addition, his old friend Kawai urged him to “rush home,” saying that in the wake of the loss of numerous collections collectors were fervently buying up pottery.42 However, the public profile, commercial success, and critical response to Hamada’s two exhibitions at the Paterson Gallery created a platform for his fellow studio potters, with Leach recalling that Hamada “left me the legacy, so to speak, of the Paterson Gallery.”43 Hamada’s departure left “sore hearts behind … the pottery seemed very empty without him.”44 The relationship with Paterson’s continued with a mixed Leach Pottery exhibition in 1925, including pots by a young Cardew and some pieces made by Hamada in 1923. Leach followed this with solo shows at Paterson’s in 1926 and 1927, and an exhibition in 1928 at Beaux Arts, the Bond Street gallery where Reginald Wells had the first of his major exhibitions. Staite Murray had six consecutive annual solo shows from 1924 at Paterson’s that established him as the most important English potter of the interwar years, with Marriot affording him the accolade of “one of the most distinguished artists in Europe” in 1928.45 Press coverage of studio pottery increased exponentially, with Marriot becoming one of its most prominent champions, going on to write over 40 more reviews in The Times between 1923 and 1939, while other broadsheets such as The Observer and The Morning Post, and major art journals including The Burlington Magazine, Apollo, The Studio, The Connoisseur, and Artwork also published regular reviews.

Asian art in London What brought about this extraordinary change of circumstance whereby a young and virtually unknown Japanese potter, two years and nine months into a stay in England, would become the first studio potter to have solo exhibitions in a London Bond Street gallery and, what is more, to generate a new wave of critical appreciation for the discipline? Hamada was undoubtedly more skilled and technically accomplished than his English compatriots, producing coherent forms and sensitive and integrated surface decoration. Cardew implied that Hamada’s proficiency was reason enough for William Paterson to risk an exhibition, while Leach put it down to personal chemistry between Paterson and Hamada. However, Hamada’s modest suggestion that it was more an issue of novelty to do with his Japanese identity is worth reflecting upon. From the 1910s, Chinese art and Song dynasty pottery had become increasingly in vogue. Following the suppression of the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, the subsequent expansion of railroad building in China by ­European powers disturbed many unknown tombs, resulting in an unprecedented flood of antiquarian artifacts into the West. Many collectors such as ­Eumorfopoulos in Britain and Charles Freer in the United States amassed extensive collections of Chinese ceramics. In the 1920s, commercial London galleries, such as Messrs Bluett and Sons, John Sparks, Yamanaka and Company, Ton Ying and Co, and Knoedler’s Galleries actively sold early

118  Julian Stair Chinese art. These galleries were following in the footsteps of the Burlington Fine Arts Club, an antiquarian collectors’ club, which had mounted the first showing of early Chinese ceramics in England in 1910, Early Chinese Pottery and Porcelain, to which Eumorfopoulos was the leading lender.46 Robert Lockhart Hobson, Keeper of Ceramics and Ethnography at the British Museum and an authority on early Chinese ceramics, published many books on the subject and a series of six articles on Song pottery in The Burlington Magazine to coincide with the exhibition. Interest in these new discoveries was transnational. Before traveling to England, Hamada studied a two-volume treatise by Hobson on Tang dynasty (618–907) and Song dynasty (960–1279) pottery in the library of one of Kawai Kanjirō’s Japanese sponsors (it was too expensive for him to buy), describing it as “the most talked about publication at that time.”47 By the early 1920s, specialist exhibitions of Chinese pottery were taking place, such as Early Ting Ware at the V&A in 1922. Paterson’s, too, capitalized on the fashion for Oriental art, showing Japanese prints in 1906 and, tellingly, mounting an exhibition of early Chinese art in 1920— three years before Hamada’s show—which Hobson reviewed in The Burlington Magazine, writing that the “Sung representatives include many rare and choice examples.”48 Through the vehicle of his 1923 exhibitions, Hamada was seen by British critics and collectors as a living embodiment of this Chinese lineage that was so popular; as McCance observed of Hamada in his review in The Spectator: “[I] wonder how many of the public who invest in ancient works of art will be encouraged to invest in tradition in the making.”49 If Paterson’s decision to exhibit Hamada is viewed through a purely commercial lens, it is clear that the gallery was keen to capitalize on this fashion for early Chinese ceramics, an astute decision given that the exhibition was successful enough to warrant a second one barely six months later. But why Hamada? In 1923, all that was known about him was that he was J­ apanese, had an exotic name, and was known to be working with Leach, a potter whose identity was inextricably linked with China and Japan. The late nineteenth-­c entury period of Japonisme had passed, and Britain was entering what was effectively a second phase of Chinoiserie after the first wave during the eighteenth century. Even at this time knowledge of early Asian art was rudimentary, as Basil Gray, head of the Oriental Department at the British Museum, explained: “It was … seldom before 1914 that Chinese art was considered independently of Japanese: and this had a very significant corollary, that Chinese art was viewed through Japanese spectacles.”50 It is difficult to envisage exactly how even knowledgeable curators and collectors viewed Hamada’s high-fired, handmade pottery when basic knowledge of early ceramic history was still being accrued and East Asian national identity was still nebulous. Compounding these difficulties, cultural differences during this early period of the twentieth century were regarded as the expression of racial traits. PG Konody, the art critic of the Observer newspaper, attributed the aesthetic character of Tang and Song

The spark that ignited the flame  119 pottery to indigenous Chinese potters and “the natural expression of their racial rhythm in appropriate form and material.”51 Clichés and stereotypical attributes shaped the interpretation of historical pottery, but this ­ignorance also allowed Hamada to be seen as representing a wider artistic culture that was becoming increasingly revered. Whether due to ambiguity, ignorance, romanticism, or the sheer quality of his work, Hamada offered Paterson’s and its clientele a tangible link to an “Oriental” past, a bridge through time and geography, unlike his English contemporaries who were referencing ancient Chinese pottery from the European present. Hamada’s national, cultural, and artistic identity afforded him an indisputable authenticity for a contemporary audience coming to terms with this new genre. As a result, he became an everyman potter to the English art world and in turn established a template for fellow potters through what he made, despite differences in national identity.

Fry and ceramics Antiquarian pottery may have provided a historical context for Hamada’s work, but the precedents for its reassessment had been laid down in the previous decade by Roger Fry, the art critic, painter, and one-time Curator of Paintings at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. A world expert on the Quattrocento, Fry transferred his interest from the Renaissance to the contemporary because of his interest in French art, becoming the leading critic and advocate of modernist art in England. Like many early critics who challenged established canons of beauty, Fry sought out art from non-Western and pre-industrial cultures. He rejected naturalistic representation and “civilized,” scientific progress for art that favored subjectivity, emotional expression, and vitality, a re-evaluation that ultimately led to the idea of abstraction, which during the 1920s was equated as much with distortion as a complete rejection of representation. In 1910, Fry curated the exhibition Manet and the Post-­Impressionists at the Grafton Galleries, London, introducing Gauguin, Van Gogh, and Cézanne (who had recently died) to the British public. He also included younger artists such as the Fauves and Picasso. Although Manet and the Post-Impressionists is now regarded as a seminal exhibition of the twentieth century, the “Art Quake of 1910,” art historians have generally overlooked Fry’s inclusion of Fauve pottery by André Derain, Maurice de Vlaminck, Pierre Girieud, Orthon Friesz, and Henri Matisse, which played a small but significant part in the exhibition.52 Fry chose this work to demonstrate his new formalist ideas and principles for a new decorative order, writing of the pure design as shown in the pottery in the present exhibition. In these there is often scarcely any appeal made through representation … The artist plays upon us by the rhythm of line, by colour, by abstract form, and by the quality of the matter he employs.53

120  Julian Stair Frank Rutter (1876–1937), art critic for The Sunday Times from 1903 until his death and founder of the Allied Artists Association, notable for first exhibiting Wassily Kandinsky in 1909, was one of the few critics to respond to the ceramics, writing that “Derain and Vlaminck’s pottery … should help to convince people of the merit of their purely decorative principles.”54 For Fry and later modernist critics such as Herbert Read (1893–1968), form offered a direct route to abstraction, in contrast to painting and sculpture that had to overcome a history of representation. As the historian Stella Tillyard observed, “[i]t was explicit in Post-Impressionist theory that an object could stand side by side with a painting as a work of art.”55 Pottery’s lack of “imitative intention” meant that it offered a fast track to new ways of theorizing and making abstract art.56 On surveying the canon of ceramic history, it became evident to Fry and others that certain types of pottery combined the modernist virtues of reductive form and expressive handling, unadulterated materials, and transparency of process, and as a result were sympathetic to modern aspirations in art. As a consequence, after more than two centuries of unparalleled admiration and connoisseurship, Chinese blue-and-white porcelain suddenly appeared overly refined to a twentieth-century artistic elite. The bold, simple forms, opaque, monochromatic glazes, and unadulterated materiality of its rough and ready forerunner, Song stoneware, offered a creative authenticity and as a result became a modernist icon embodying abstract form. In 1910, the same year that he curated Manet and the Post-Impressionists, Fry reviewed the Burlington Fine Arts Club exhibition Early Chinese Pottery and Porcelain, to which he applied his new Post-Impressionist theories. In discussing a Jun stoneware bowl he dispensed with ideas of rarity and antiquarian taxonomies, instead offering a modernist interpretation, writing that the Song pots were “a revelation” and appealed “to the imagination” through their “purely plastic quality” and “extreme simplicity of form.” In contrast to established canons of skill, he argued, “[a]ll the astounding skill of hand of the potter is here devoted to the refinement of the rough, primitive pot, not to its elaboration into something quite different.”57 Within a decade, other critics developed and amplified these ideas. Frank Rutter, like Fry, regarded the superiority of Chinese pottery as “incontestable.”58 Clive Bell (1881–1964), Fry’s friend and a member of the Bloomsbury Group, developed his theory of “significant form” in his 1914 book Art using a Song pot as an exemplar. Challenging the hegemony of painting and sculpture, he wrote, “No one ever doubted that a Sung pot or a Romanesque church was as much an expression of emotion as any picture that ever was painted.”59 English vernacular pottery, in particular Staffordshire slipware, had also been attracting antiquarian interest for a number of years, having once, like Tang and Song stoneware, been dismissed because of a perceived lack of skill, technical refinement, and sophistication. Charles Lomax’s Quaint Old English Pottery (1909) was one of the first collector’s books published on the newly popular genre.60 In 1914 the Burlington Fine Arts Club staged Early English Earthenware, another defining historical exhibition for studio

The spark that ignited the flame  121 pottery. Ranging from medieval Gothic earthenware to seventeenth-­century stoneware, this display echoed the “backward” shift in antiquarian taste to earlier Oriental pots. In his review of the exhibition, Fry again applied his Post-Impressionist criteria, writing that “our aesthetic standards vary so much that what one age rejects as barbarous stammerings [sic] another finds to be the climax of human expression.” He reserved his highest praise for the Gothic pots, affording them the ultimate accolade by likening them to Tang pottery, “some of the greatest ceramics in existence.”61 Clive Bell hailed the merits of the work shown in Early English Earthenware as the spirit of contemporary artistic practice: “‘A rustic imagination untrammeled by the rules of art’ is the ideal of the younger generation of European artists. If they have it not, they affect it.”62 By 1923, most critics and self-respecting collectors were aware of the pots Hamada was referencing, but to understand how historical knowledge translated itself into practice, it is necessary to look again to Fry’s achievements from the previous decade. Fry was a practicing artist as well as a critic, and in 1913 he founded the Omega Workshops, a loose coalition of part-time artists he organized to produce interior decorative schemes and “objects for common life.”63 Much has been written about Omega but it is worthwhile reviewing its pottery, as it set the template for the studio potters of the 1920s.64 Fry stated that Post-Impressionism had “brought the artist back to the problems of design so that he is once more in a position to grasp sympathetically the conditions of applied art.”65 Part Arts and Crafts workshop, part Wiener Werkstätte or, as Fry described it in 1917, “studios of the Italian Renaissance,”66 Omega aimed to become a regenerative force and purify art through “a prolonged contact with the crafts”67 and its artists’ refusal “to spoil the expressive quality of their work by sand-papering it down to a shop finish.”68 Fry became the in-house potter, and his hand-thrown, monochromatic majolica tableware was the first modernist challenge to the ubiquity of mass-produced ceramics, anticipating Theodor Bogler and Otto Lindig’s more accomplished handmade pots from the Bauhaus workshops of the 1920s.69 Through Omega, Fry repositioned thrown pottery from an artisanal activity to an art form, arguing that pottery “is essentially a form of sculpture” and “should express directly the artist’s sensibility … not merely [be] executed to their design.”70 Fry’s review of the Burlington’s Early English Earthenware, published the year after he founded Omega, was as much a manifesto of intent and social commentary as it was a critical response to the exhibition. His preference for the Gothic pots in Early English Earthenware was partially a result of his socio-­political beliefs, as he felt the work was egalitarian and free of the class divisions that marked later ceramics; “made apparently alike for rich and poor … there was only one quality.”71 Despite his social concerns, Omega was not a retreat from a full engagement with art but an attempt at incorporating Post-Impressionist ideas in the home. Predating Leach and Staite Murray’s ideas by a decade, Fry claimed artist-made pottery was an equal to painting and sculpture while simultaneously arguing for the importance of use.

122  Julian Stair

Studio pottery after Paterson’s Fry’s critical re-appraisal of Song and vernacular English pottery and his claim that Omega’s artist-made pottery was an abstract art form that enriched social life established the main themes of twentieth-century British studio ceramics. The emergence in the 1920s of studio potters such as ­Hamada gave material form to these ideas, with the Paterson Gallery becoming the site of convergence between Fry’s legacy and the St Ives experiment. Hamada’s exhibitions at the gallery alternated with exhibitions of Ben and Winifred Nicholson’s paintings in May and the 7 & 5 Society in November 1923. Although there is no evidence of significant personal contact between Hamada and this young group of English artists, Hamada became good friends with Staite Murray, who became a stalwart of the society, exhibiting in all of its group shows until the society disbanded in 1935. Although indebted to Chinese stoneware, Staite Murray emphatically positioned his work as abstract art, stating, “pottery was the link between painting and sculpture … The forms are abstractions and as such readily contemplated as pure form.”72 Nicholson and Staite Murray explored ideas of material abstraction in their painting and pottery and exhibited together over the next decade with many of Britain’s leading artists, including Christopher Wood, Barbara Hepworth, Jacob Epstein, and Paul Nash. Indeed, Nicholson helped organize the first exhibition of completely abstract art in England at the Zwemmer Gallery in 1935. However, the fact that Staite Murray continued to correspond with Hamada and exchange practical information (for example, what type of dog hair was best suited to making Japanese brushes) while also sitting on the hanging committee of the 7 & 5 Society and becoming its Honorary Treasurer reveals an interplay between ceramics and fine art that became increasingly rare as the century progressed.73 Hamada was not the only potter in England working in stoneware and referencing Song pottery or English vernacular pottery, and Paterson’s was not the only gallery to straddle antiquarian and contemporary art and studio pottery. However, the depth and variety of its exhibition program was characteristic of the heterogeneity of British art during this period. Conversely, after 1924, Leach developed a strident neo-Arts and Crafts rhetoric, exhibited in galleries of variable quality, and struggled to establish a public profile. The financial pressures of running St Ives and his philosophical aim of reviving pre-­industrial pottery formed an uneasy mix that emphasized a utilitarianism at odds with the growing modernist framing of pottery as a purely artistic discipline. Leach no longer had either the intellectual and financial support or the cheap, skilled artisanal help he had relied on in Japan, and his tone and writing became more vehement, urging potters to “contribute to national life. A growing public wants to enjoy the use of its crockery.”74 Artistic and critical priorities were changing and Leach became marginalized. Two reviews published in The Times within days of each other reveal the divide. Marriot referred to Staite Murray as having “made of pottery a complete form of emotional expression, combining the

The spark that ignited the flame  123 more abstract possibilities of sculpture and painting.”75 With regard to Leach, he discussed profit margins on the production of cups and saucers and how this had “pushed down the possibilities of the private kiln about as far as they will go to meet the factory on economic terms.”76 In contrast, Wells and Staite Murray continued to have solo exhibitions in significant commercial galleries, participated in group shows with major artists, and were featured in leading art journals. By the end of the decade, other potters such as Charles Vyse, Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie, Nora Braden, and Michael Cardew swelled the ranks, creating a critical mass that would become a national and international movement. Changes followed this wider visibility and success. In 1930 Staite Murray moved from Paterson’s to the more prestigious Lefevre Gallery, where Herbert Read, the leading mid-century art critic, allowed the two-page section on pottery from his book The Meaning of Art to be anonymously pre-published in the catalogue of Staite Murray’s first exhibition. Read echoed a declaration made six years earlier in English Pottery, the book he co-authored with Bernard Rackham when both were curators at the V&A, in which he stated that pottery was “plastic art in its most abstract form.”77 He asserted, “Pottery is at once the simplest and the most difficult of all arts. It is the simplest because it is the most elemental; it is the most difficult because it is the most abstract.”78

Return to Japan On his return journey to Japan, Hamada traveled through Europe and the Mediterranean, taking in French cuisine, Cimabue’s Byzantine frescoes in Italy, Bronze Age Minoan pots in Crete, and archaeological excavations and a pottery village in Egypt, all meticulously recorded in his sketchbook. Writing to Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke, a fellow potter from Kyoto by then working at St Ives, he reflected on his time in England. “Away from Japan, I began to understand my country; perhaps now I will gradually start to understand England.”79 Hamada took this newfound understanding back to a Japan that—like England when he arrived in 1920—was in a state of transition, with Tomimoto and Kawai emerging as craftsmen in their own right. Having left as a university-trained technician with aspirations to become a potter, Hamada returned to Japan as an experienced artist with an awareness of contemporary European art. Over the next three years, he rekindled his friendship and creative partnership with Kawai, whom he introduced to Yanagi; established his workshop in the rural village of Mashiko, modeling it on “the life-style of Mrs. Ethel Mairet and Eric Gill”; and along with ­Kawai became a signatory to Yanagi’s “Prospectus for the Establishment of a Mingei Art Museum,” in what was effectively the manifesto and launch of the Japanese Mingei (folk craft) movement.80 No longer an assistant but a peer to his “two grand champions,” Leach and Tomimoto, Hamada again exhibited at Paterson’s in 1929 and 1931, as part of a series of exhibitions coordinated by Leach to promote Hamada,

124  Julian Stair Kawai and Tomimoto. In The Times, Marriot discussed the “freedom and certainty” of Hamada’s calligraphy, describing his Mashiko pots as “a kind of aristocracy of the native domestic pottery” of Japan.81 Hamada’s 1931 exhibition was probably the last ceramic exhibition at Paterson’s, following Staite Murray’s defection to the Lefevre Gallery. By this time, studio potters were regularly exhibiting in Bond Street galleries, but, in the eight-year period bookended by the Hamada shows, the Paterson Gallery had presented more significant ceramic exhibitions than any other in England. The impact of Hamada’s brief foray into the English pottery and art world extended far beyond his friendship with Leach and his time at St Ives. The Paterson Gallery exhibitions launched Hamada’s career and also ignited the flame of English studio pottery, ushering in a new ceramic genre that would excite the world for decades to come.

Notes 1 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 22. 2 Ibid., 34. 3 Ibid., 22. 4 Ibid., 25. 5 Ibid., 26. 6 Ibid., 29. 7 Ibid., 21. 8 Ibid., 24. 9 Ibid., 22. 10 Ibid., 22. 11 Specially contributed (probably Bernard Leach), “An Art Pottery in Cornwall.” 12 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 19. 13 Ibid., 49. 14 Ibid., 35. 15 Anonymous, “The Late Robert Wallace Martin,” 1472–75. 16 The V&A has a comprehensive collection of Martin Brothers’s work. 17 Billington, The Art of the Potter. 18 Cox, Pottery, for Artists, Craftsmen & Teachers. Trained at the Royal College of Art, Cox immigrated to America in 1914, where he became Instructor in Pottery and Modeling at the Teachers College, Columbia University. 19 Ibid., viii. 20 Wells also designed aircraft and later became an architect. 21 Elder, Travelling Players. 22 An alliance of young artists including Ben Nicholson, Ivor Hitchens, Henry Moore, and Barbara Hepworth. Staite Murray also maintained links with some exhibiting craft societies such as the Red Rose Guild. 23 Heal and Sons Ltd., Tottenham Court Road, London, was the UK’s leading furniture and design store of the early twentieth century. A founding member of the Design and Industries Association, Ambrose Heal opened the Mansard Gallery within the store in 1917. It held a number of important art and design exhibitions during the interwar years. 24 Examples of Leach Pottery Raku ware with painted decoration can be found in the V&A.

The spark that ignited the flame  125 25 Anonymous, “Home Arts and Industries Exhibition,” 18. 26 Anonymous, “Bernard Leach”; anonymous, “Cotswold Gallery.” 27 The gallery was established in Glasgow, Scotland, in 1900 by William B. ­Paterson (1859–1952), brother of the Scottish painter James Paterson, and a ­London branch opened soon after. It exhibited a wide range of work from French furniture to antiquarian and contemporary art. Its roster of exhibitions included work by Monet, Degas, Pissarro, and Gauguin shown in its Scottish branch, as well as a contemporary exhibition of paintings by the young and progressive artist couple Ben and Winifred Nicholson in 1923. 28 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 67. 29 McCance, “The Pottery of Mr. Shoji Hamada.” 30 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 67–68. 31 Eumorfopoulos sold part of his collection to the British Museum and the V&A in 1934 for the sum of £100,000. 32 William “Billy” Winkworth was a curator under RL Hobson at the British Museum in 1923 before leaving to become a full-time collector and marchand-­ amateur of Oriental art. In 1924 he donated a Hamada tenmoku bowl from the Paterson’s exhibition to the V&A (CIRC.992-1924). Leach, Hamada, Potter, 68. 33 Cardew joined the Leach Pottery shortly after graduating in Classics from ­Oxford University. Cardew, A Pioneer Potter, 34. 34 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 66. 35 Ibid., 70. 36 Marriot, “Anglo-Japanese Pottery.” 37 Marriot, “Leach Pottery.” 38 McCance, “Pottery at the Cotswold Gallery.” 39 McCance, “The Art of Pottery.” 40 Greenslade’s design also won the competition for the National Library of Wales in 1909. 41 V&A: CIRC.542-1923; C.106-1924; CIRC.992-1924; C.407-1934; C.411-1934. 42 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 70. 43 Ibid., 47. 44 Ibid., 76. 45 Marriot, “Stoneware Pottery.” 46 Dillon, “Early Chinese Pottery and Porcelain at the Burlington Fine Arts Club,” 210. 47 Hamada is referring to Hobson’s “Chinese Pottery & Porcelain” in Leach, ­Hamada, Potter, 23. 48 Hobson, “Early Chinese Art at Paterson’s Gallery,” 110. 49 McCance, “The Pottery of Mr. Shoji Hamada.” 50 Gray, “The Development of Taste in Chinese Art in the West 1872 to 1972,” 21. 51 Konody, “Modern English Pottery.” 52 MacCarthy, “The Art Quake of 1910,” 123–29. 53 Fry, “Post-Impressionism,” 862. 54 Rutter, “Success de Scandals,” 14. 55 Tillyard, The Impact of Modernism, 63. 56 Rackham and Read, English Pottery, 4. 57 Fry, “The Chinese Exhibition,” 594. 58 Rutter, “Modern English Pottery and Porcelain,” 135. 59 Bell, Art, 58. 60 Leach persuaded his friend and collaborator Tomimoto Kenkichi to purchase it for the study they shared in Japan. The copy still bears the notes Tomimoto and Leach made in its margins. (Tomimoto Kenkichi Archives, Kyoto City University of Arts). 61 Fry, “The Art Pottery of England,” 330.

126  Julian Stair 62 Probably Clive Bell, “Early English Earthenware,” 710. 63 Fry, “Omega Workshops Ltd,” 4. 64 Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie’s interest in pottery began when she saw an Omega exhibition. 65 Quoted in Collins, The Omega Workshops, 30. 66 Anonymous, “A Visit to the Omega Workshop,” 76. 67 Fry, “Omega Workshops Ltd,” 4. 68 Fry, “Art and Socialism,” 54. 69 For further details on Fry’s role as Omega’s potter see Stair, “The Employment of Matter,” 26–33. The Art Pottery of the late Victorian period had challenged the conformity of industrial mass production with potteries such as Ruskin and Moorcroft but did so under the aegis of the Arts and Crafts movement. 70 Ibid., 10 and 4. 71 Fry, “English Earthenware,” 791. 72 Staite Murray, “Pottery from the Artist’s Point of View,” 202. 73 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 87. 74 Leach, “The Second Annual Decorative and Industrial Art Exhibition,” 14. 75 Marriot, “Stoneware Pottery.” 76 Marriot, “Mr. Bernard Leach.” 77 Rackham and Read, English Pottery, 4. 78 Read, The Meaning of Art, 22–23. 79 Leach, Hamada, Potter, 73. 80 Hamada visited the Ditchling community of artists based in East Sussex in southeast England on a rare trip away from St Ives. The weaver Ethel Mairet and artist Eric Gill were two of the most important figures at Ditchling. 81 Marriot, “A Japanese Potter.”

References “A Visit to the Omega Workshop.” Drawing & Design 5, August 1917. Bell, Clive. Art. London: Chatto & Windus, 1914. (probably) “Early English Earthenware.” The Athenaeum 4494, December 13, 1913. “Bernard Leach.” Arts Gazette, December 2, 1922. Billington, Dora. The Art of the Potter. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1937. Cardew, Michael. A Pioneer Potter: An Autobiography. London: Collins, 1988. Collins, Judith. The Omega Workshops. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984. “Cotswold Gallery. Mr Bernard Leach. An Artist in Japan.” New Age (November 30, 1922). Cox, George J. Pottery, for Artists, Craftsmen & Teachers. New York: Macmillan, 1914. Dillon, Edward. “Early Chinese Pottery and Porcelain at the Burlington Fine Arts Club.” The Burlington XVII, no. 88 (July 1910). Elder, Eleanor. Travelling Players: The Story of the Arts League of Service. London: Frederick Muller, 1939. Fry, Roger. “Art and Socialism.” Vision and Design. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981 (1920). ______. “English Earthenware.” The Spectator, November 24, 1923. ______. “Omega Workshops Ltd.” Omega. London, 1914. ______. “Post-Impressionism.” The Fortnightly Review LXXXIX (January 1911): 862.

The spark that ignited the flame  127 ______. “The Art Pottery of England.” The Burlington Magazine 24, no. 132 (March 1914). ______. “The Chinese Exhibition.” The Nation (1910). Gray, Basil. “The Development of Taste in Chinese Art in the West 1872 to 1972.” Transactions of the Oriental Ceramics Society (1972). Hobson, Robert Lockhart. Chinese Pottery & Porcelain. London: Cassel and Co. Ltd. (1915). ______. “Early Chinese Art at Paterson’s Gallery.” The Burlington Magazine (­August 1920). “Home Arts and Industries Exhibition.” Pottery and Glass Record (1921) (Leach Archive 1382). Konody, Paul G. “Modern English Pottery.” The Observer, December 1, 1929. “Late Robert Wallace Martin, The.” The Pottery and Glass Trade Review, September 1, 1923. Leach, Bernard. Hamada, Potter. Tokyo, New York, and San Francisco: Kodansha International, 1975. ______. “The Second Annual Decorative and Industrial Art Exhibition.” The Arts & Crafts (June 1927). Marriot, Charles. “A Japanese Potter.” The Times, May 24, 1929. ______. “Anglo-Japanese Pottery.” The Times, November 1, 1923. ______. “Leach Pottery.” The Times, November 14, 1923. ______. “Mr. Bernard Leach.” The Times, December 6, 1928. ______. “Stoneware Pottery.” The Times, November 3, 1928. McCance, William. “Pottery at the Cotswold Gallery.” The Spectator, November 1923. ______. “The Art of Pottery.” The Spectator, November 24, 1923. ______. “The Pottery of Mr. Shoji Hamada.” The Spectator, May 26, 1923. MacCarthy, Desmond. “The Art Quake of 1910.” The Listener, London, February 1, 1945. Rackham, Bernard and Herbert Read. English Pottery: Its Development from Early Times to the End of The Eighteenth Century. London: Ernest Benn, 1924. Read, Herbert. The Meaning of Art. London: Faber & Faber, 1931. Rutter, Frank. “Modern English Pottery and Porcelain.” Apollo Magazine 2 (July– December 1925). ______. “Success de Scandals.” The Sunday Times, November 13, 1910. Specially contributed [probably Bernard Leach]. “An Art Pottery in Cornwall.” The Pottery Gazette and Glass Trade Review, December 1, 1920. Stair, Julian. “The Employment of Matter: Pottery of the Omega Workshop.” In Beyond Bloomsbury: Designs of the Omega Workshop 1913–19, edited by Alexandra Gerstein, Christopher Reed, and Mary Schloeser. London: Courthold-Fontanka, 2009. Staite Murray, William. “Pottery from the Artist’s Point of View.” Artwork 4, no. 1 (May/August 1924). Tillyard, Stella. The Impact of Modernism: The Visual Arts in Edwardian England. London and New York: Routledge, 1988.

7 Okuda Seiichi and the new language of ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan Seung Yeon Sang

Modes of collecting, appreciating, and studying ceramics in modern Japan spawned a new set of terminologies. Newly coined terms of particular importance include tōji shumi (pleasure in collecting or appreciating ceramics), kanshō tōji (ceramics for appreciation), and tōyō tōji (East Asian ceramics). These three concepts are emblematic of the Taisho era (1912–26) and connote different strains of a trend that constituted a period of transition in the development of ceramic scholarship. The key task of my analysis is to probe the use of these concepts in primary sources of the Taisho era, when the peculiarities of political, social, and cultural conditions reshaped the meanings of the concepts from their historical roots and Western counterparts. I will focus on Okuda Seiichi (1883–1955), a pioneering scholar of ceramic history in modern Japan and the leading voice of the Saikokai (Colored Jar Society) and the Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo (Institute of Oriental Ceramics) (fig. 7.1).1 His writings on ceramics engaged three major concerns of the broader Taisho era intellectual discourse: pleasure, appreciation, and reordering the power dynamics of Japan’s worldview. Over the last decade, a growing body of Japanese-language scholarship has concerned the historiography of modern ceramic studies. In 2000–02, Takeuchi Jun’ichi compiled a survey of major traits and shifts in ceramic scholarship from the Meiji era (1868–1912) to the early Showa era (1926–89) in a series of articles in the journal Tōsetsu.2 While Takeuchi’s comprehensive outline of the defining characters of ceramic research in modern Japan is valuable, his broad coverage was necessarily limited in detailing the intricate and complex processes of formulating the basis of the field. In 2013, Hayashiya Seizō and Kida Takuya published seminal works reconstructing the trajectory of Japan’s ceramic studies in Tōyō tōji, the journal of the Japan Society of Oriental Ceramic Studies. Written in memoir style, Hayashiya’s essay profiles his teacher, Okuda Seiichi, and offers a close look at his pioneering role in the formation of ceramic study groups.3 Kida reconstructs the trajectory of modern ceramic scholarship primarily through probing the seemingly interrelated activities of early twentieth-century ceramic study groups and key players such as Okuda and Ōkōchi Masatoshi (1878–1952).4 Together, these recent publications provide a timely context for a reconsideration of the legacy of ceramic scholarship in the Taisho era.

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  129

Figure 7.1  In a gathering of ceramics connoisseurs, Okuda Seiichi appears in the back row, second from the left; Robert L. Hobson stands fourth from the left; and dealer Yamanaka Sadajirō is at the far right. From Tōji (Oriental Ceramics) 2, no. 6 (June 1930): Plate 1.

In this chapter, I scrutinize the temporality of the newly coined terms mentioned earlier through Okuda’s writings, which offer insights into the varied discourses on ceramics within Taisho society. I bring together for critical analysis contemporaneous primary texts such as Saikokai kōenroku (The record of the Saikokai lectures); Kokka, the first art history periodical in Japan; and the journal Tōji (Oriental Ceramics) published by the Institute of Oriental Ceramics. By adopting a version of Satō Dōshin’s method of the study of language (kotoba no kenkyū), I will unpack the baggage of these three terms, specific to the exclusive circles that used them, and delineate their relationships in light of epistemology, value formation, and the subtle nuances of translating Western concepts into Japanese.5

Pleasure in collecting or appreciating ceramics: Tōji shumi The Meiji era witnessed the transfer of art ownership from powerful feudal lords (daimyo) and hereditary noblemen to a new class of political, intellectual, and industrial leaders such as Yasuda Zenjirō (founder of the Yasuda financial group, 1838–1921), Inoue Kaoru (Meiji statesman, 1835–1915), and Masuda Takashi (director of the Mitsui Trading Company, 1848–1938). These rising elites of the Meiji era used their wealth to become enthusiastic patrons of the tea ceremony (chanoyu, literally “hot water for tea”) as they amassed tea utensils from the great feudal collections that emerged on the art market. This elite circle of collectors identified themselves as modern tea connoisseurs (sukisha), claiming that their interests were those of men dedicated to taste

130  Seung Yeon Sang (shumi), not those of professional tea practitioners (chajin).6 Since the Edo period (1615–1868), the word chajin had been widely used to refer to tea masters or practitioners.7 The new collectors adopted the term sukisha in order to distinguish themselves from chajin, whose rigorous training and performance of tea rituals were regulated by the three major tea schools, Urasenke, Omotesenke, and Mushanokōjisenke. The “suki” of sukisha, which can be translated literally as “liking,” had developed different nuances over time.8 Among various meanings of “suki,” within the tea world it implied the quality of attachment, which refers to tea aficionados’ discriminating appreciation of tea utensils as well as their passion for collecting fine ones. In the realm of “suki,” the core of tea practice and tea vessel collecting lies in the pursuit of private passion and indulgence rather than a profession. As enjoyment of gentlemanly arts such as the practice of tea gained prominence, the modern tea men equated their lavish collecting of famous tea implements to aesthetic sophistication, and they transformed the pre-modern image of politically charged tea rituals into an elite expression of taste in modern life. The terms tōji shumi (pleasure in collecting or appreciating ceramics) and its equivalent, tōki shumi, were coined in the late nineteenth century and gradually gained acceptance by modern tea men and their associates. These terms signaled a new age of ceramic collecting, appreciation, and research. The unprecedented sales of great art collections, especially from former daimyo families, as well as the overflow of artifacts newly excavated in ­Japan and elsewhere offered special opportunities for modern tea men to take a freer approach to and shape a new taste in collecting and appreciating ceramics. Social groups and learned societies such as the Tōjiki Kenkyūkai (Ceramic Studies Society, established in 1914) and the Saikokai (established in 1916) played a part in the cultivation of taste for ceramics worthy of collecting and appreciation.9 In a retrospective essay about ceramic study groups, Okuda credited the Saikokai with improving collectors’ overall level of sophistication in appreciating ceramics.10 The publication of guidebooks, catalogues, and encyclopedic compilations also contributed to the dispersal of knowledge about ceramics to these collectors.11 Okuda’s career and the Saikokai were inextricably linked to the Taisho phenomenon of styling a new taste for ceramics and expanding the field of collectible objects under the leadership of modern tea connoisseurs. After his encounter with Ōkōchi Masatoshi, a major collector and professor in the college of science and engineering at Tokyo Imperial University, Okuda began writing about ceramics in the early 1910s. Their shared interest in ceramics fostered a lifelong friendship, and together they envisioned forming a private group for ceramic study. They first realized this vision with the establishment of the Tōjiki Kenkyūkai (Ceramic Studies Society) in 1914. In the formative years of his career, Okuda wrote extensively about the pleasures of collecting and appreciating ceramics, especially ceramics reflecting “Japanese taste” (Nihon shumi), in the service of modern tea connoisseurs. He argued that the sponsorship of tea culture by one of the “three unifiers”

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  131 of Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536–98), gave birth to a “unique Japanese taste or style” as it applied to ceramic traditions.12 Okuda used the terms Nihon shumi, Nihonteki (in a Japanese manner), and Nihonka (Japanization) interchangeably, and he posited them as having the opposite meaning of mohō (imitation).13 By stressing the novelty of “Japanese taste,” Okuda provided many bourgeois elite collectors with a reason for pursing a lavish new style of collecting and taking pleasure in ceramic appreciation.

Ceramics for appreciation: Kanshō tōji In 1916, the Saikokai began with an innovative goal—“scientific appreciation of ceramics.” Hatakeyama Issei (1881–1971) and Nishiwaki Saizaburō (1880–1962), both industrialists and modern tea connoisseurs, first proposed the idea of the Saikokai. They claimed they were inspired to form such a ceramics appreciation group after discovering a number of famous Japanese Kakiemon and Nabeshima enameled porcelain wares at an antique shop called Tanaka in the resort town of Hakone.14 The three Chinese characters sai 彩, ko 壺, and kai 会 composing the name Saikokai combine to mean “Colored Jar Society.” According to Hatakeyama’s recollection, they improvised the name “Saikokai” after seeing a Kakiemon jar purchased by another of the group’s founding members, Satō Kōichi, professor of architecture at Waseda University (fig. 7.2).15 The Saikokai members’ strong

Figure 7.2  Kakiemon jar from the Satō Kōichi collection. From Ōkōchi Masatoshi, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima (rev. ed., 1933), Fig. 5.

132  Seung Yeon Sang interest in collecting decorated porcelains such as Kakiemon, destined mainly for export when made in the seventeenth century, caused a sensation in the art market.16 The majority of Saikokai members were upper class elites and wealthy men associated with major industrial combines who would influence the direction of ceramic collecting in Japan. As the Saikokai gained prominence, its membership exceeded 100.17 Okuda described the Saikokai as a “social group” rather than a professional association.18 Many of the elite businessman members of the Tōjiki Kenkyūkai later joined the Saikokai. Ōkōchi, who became president of the Saikokai, defined the group in the preface to its first publication, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima (Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima wares): What is the Saikokai? … Our members, who were devoted to appreciation and collecting through the Tōjiki Kenkyūkai at the College of Liberal Arts at Tokyo Imperial University, formed this group in order to contribute to the amelioration of society … The Saikokai’s first task is the scientific appreciation of ceramics, a type of appreciation hitherto unknown in Japan.19 As Ōkōchi pointed out, the Saikokai set as its principal goal the “scientific appreciation of ceramics” (tōjiki no kagakuteki kanshō). “Scientific” and “appreciation” held equally important weight as the ceramic research apparatus of the Saikokai, yet these concepts contradicted each other, residing at the extreme reaches of the objective and subjective realms of understanding ceramics. To be sure, “scientific appreciation” represented a fundamental shift in modern ceramics discourse, speaking directly to both existing tea norms and to newly adopted fine art canons so central to the development of modern ceramics discourse. By using the term “scientific” (equivalent to a Western way of thinking), the Saikokai members tackled the issues of uncritical acceptance of esoteric tea canons and appraisal of tea utensils according to the personal, individual tastes of historical tea masters or former owners. Their scientific approach did not readily concur with Western scientific epistemology per se, however.20 They intended their critical attitude toward esoteric tea conventions to challenge the tea hegemony. For the Saikokai, the so-called “tea taste” set by past tea practitioners stood at the opposite pole from scientific appreciation. While not entirely denouncing tea masters’ appraisal of historical ceramics, Ōkōchi and Okuda argued that neither a written pedigree nor inscriptions on container boxes could serve as reliable evidence of origin and identification, and that these documents could no longer constitute absolute grounds for bestowing superior status on an object. As outlined above, the Saikokai’s main objective was to modernize ceramic appreciation, which derived from age-old tea canons. For both Ōkōchi

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  133 and Okuda, one way to accomplish this was by conceiving of ceramic appreciation as fundamentally equal to that used for painting. The appreciation of paintings emphasizes evaluating their artistic merits rather than their pedigree…. In the same way, we should pay attention to the eye and inspiration of the contemporary viewer…. We can look at ceramics in multiple ways.21 This approach was a departure from past tea orthodoxy—it advocated looking at ceramics for their own sake instead of on the basis of their pedigrees, past ownership, and use. Interestingly, the emphasis on the role of the viewer in appreciating ceramics has a Hegelian resonance. The 1920s publication of a nine-volume photographic catalogue of famous tea utensils titled Taishō meikikan by the Mitsukoshi executive and modern tea connoisseur, Takahashi Yoshio (Sōan, 1861–1937), testifies to a central concern of viewing artifacts using empirical knowledge.22 Takahashi’s unique contribution to the field was to add a section he called “jikkenki” (actual viewing commentaries), after personally evaluating over 900 tea caddies and bowls featured in the Taishō meikikan.23 Takahashi was a well-connected man of influence whom the same authorities would have wanted to view and catalogue their celebrated tea utensils. Despite his overwhelming concern with viewing actual ceramics, however, Takahashi’s approach still remained conservative, with values rooted in historical evaluation. In particular, his approach echoed that of the renowned feudal lord and collector, Matsudaira Fumai (1751–1818), author of Kokon meibutsu ruijū (Classification of old and new famous tea utensils) in the late eighteenth century. Takahashi largely borrowed the hierarchical scale and logic of organization established by the warrior connoisseur.24 The Taishō meikikan presents multiple photographs of each work as a means of tangible and immediate access (fig 7.3). Not only are the front, top view, and base of each tea caddy and bowl shown, but inscriptions on the storage box and labels attached to the backs of associated scrolls appear together. These suggest Takahashi’s inclination for tea aesthetics with an emphasis on tea vessels’ pedigree.25 The concept of “ceramics for appreciation” promoted by Saikokai members was not only Western-inflected, in terms of scientific empiricism, but also created as a counterpart to the concept of “celebrated tea implements” (meibutsu) derived from tea tradition. In an early essay on the appreciation of tea utensils, Okuda lamented the lack of opportunities in the past to view actual objects, which had become an obstacle to precise identification and sensible appreciation.26 He further noted that not all famed objects are artistic according to contemporaneous standards, and he boldly asserted that the prestigious status of tea vessels from former daimyo families is taken for granted but needs to be corrected.27 Okuda stressed empiricism and challenged the established value system that framed celebrated tea vessels

134  Seung Yeon Sang

Figure 7.3  Images of the Seto tea caddy named Hirosawa, with storage container and storage box lid. From Takahashi Yoshio, Taishō meikikan 4, no. 2 (1927).

in favor of the viewer’s own aesthetic perception. Echoing the major concepts of Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Judgment, Okuda moved away from absolute beauty, emphasizing instead the relationship between the viewer and artworks. The Saikokai’s reassessment of famed tea utensils thus indicates how the importance of established status for tea ceramics lessened in modern Japan, while the place of tea wares in the history of Japanese ceramics took on new value. In this light, Okuda and his cohort in the Saikokai saw the best method for appreciating art ceramics as akin to that for connoisseurship of paintings: both relied on mental activities in concert with vision. At the outset, the subjects of the Saikokai’s studies of “ceramics for appreciation” were limited to non-tea utensils. Takeuchi Jun’ichi noted the decisive choice to grapple with Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima—heavily decorated wares for food service, not tea vessels with “lighter” designs—as the topic of the first Saikokai publication.28 Ōkōchi celebrated Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima as the finest examples of Japanese ceramics from the Edo period. He argued that Japanese failed to appreciate them due to the dominance of tea aesthetics, whereas Westerners (in Britain, France, America, and elsewhere) discerned their artistic value from an early stage.29

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  135 Ōkōchi compared such low marks given to Kakiemon in Japan with those for woodblock prints (ukiyo-e, “pictures of the floating world”) that attained an iconic status as part of Japonisme in the West. One can argue that white porcelains with decorative designs such as Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima were the logical choice for the Saikokai to appreciate on equal terms with painting. It is worth noting that Ōkōchi argued his promotion of Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima wares according to the Western evaluation of Japanese ceramics rather than age-old tea norms. Overall, the scope and program of the Saikokai’s ceramic studies lay predominantly in Japanese ceramics (in particular, enameled porcelain types). However, they gradually expanded to treat a diverse range of Chinese and Korean ceramics. A flood of Chinese ceramics newly unearthed and discovered on the continent energized the Taisho era art market and shaped a new taste in art collecting. Unlike tea bowls of Chinese origin from the great feudal collections, highly prized and aestheticized as karamono (literally “Chinese things”), the majority of the new arrivals represented unfamiliar types excavated from burial sites of the Han (206 BCE – 220 CE) through Tang (618–907) dynasties, and from both tombs and habitation sites of the Song dynasty (960–1279).30 It is no wonder that archaeological finds of Tang three-color ware (sancai) and Song Cizhou ware in the 1920s became the center of attention among art collectors, dealers, and scholars in Japan. At the same time, Japanese tea taste in Korean ceramics shaped the direction of archaeological surveys of kiln sites as the Japanese colonial administration lavished attention and resources on Korea.31 These new discoveries also provided a basis for an upsurge of interest in studying the origins of Korean heirlooms in Japan, such as mishima (“buncheong” in Korean, a genre of stoneware with white slip) and Goryeo inlaid celadon types belonging to former daimyo collections. Okuda’s Saikokai lectures on topics of Korean ceramics coincided with the development of archaeological excavations at kiln sites in colonial Korea.32

Japan’s “East Asian” (tōyō) ceramics vs. the West’s “Oriental” ceramics The modern invention of tōyō ceramics unfolds from the early twentieth-­ century historical narrative of “Oriental Ceramics” transplanted from the West, and its rationale enabled an unprecedented penetration of the notion of Japan’s superiority to the unchanging unity of Asia. Geographically, in contrast to the West’s “Orient” that referred to the Middle East and India, Japan’s “Asia” or “East” (tōyō) comprised chiefly China, Korea, and Japan.33 Inseparable from the reorganization process of Japan’s worldview, the modern construct of “tōyō ceramics” can be understood as a Japanization of the West’s “Oriental Ceramics.” In order to make the epistemological and ontological distinctions between the West’s “Orient” and Japan’s “Asia” or “East,” I use the term “tōyō” to refer to its connotations created by and specific to the Taisho era.

136  Seung Yeon Sang Okuda helped establish the Institute of Oriental Ceramics (Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo) in 1924 to pursue scholarly research on tōyō ceramics, distancing it from the elite circles of collectors whose interests were centered on taste or pleasure (shumi) and moving beyond an aesthetic perspective of appreciation (kanshō) devoid of rationality. Especially crucial for this goal was the formation of the field as an academic discipline. An excerpt from the first issue of the Institute’s journal Tōji (Oriental Ceramics) sums up the aims and hopes of this new scholarly group— to assert Japan’s unique sensibilities in discerning tōyō ceramics: It is disgraceful to acknowledge that we are destined to be guided by Westerners because they gave impetus to the study of Oriental ceramics … It is a crucial task for us to discover the traces of historical ceramics, probe their advancement up to the present, and forecast the future. By doing so, we can navigate the paths of Asian culture. The Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo has been established to undertake this work, and the publication of our scholarly output in this journal is an indispensable part of our mission.34 To be sure, scholarship on so-called “Oriental ceramics” had a precedent in the West that provided a template for the Japanese researchers. For instance, the Hintōkai (established in 1906)—the earliest ceramic study group of which Okuda was part—used Edward Sylvester Morse’s Catalogue of the Morse Collection of Japanese Pottery (1901) as a reference book.35 The Oriental Ceramic Society (OCS), founded in London in 1921 by major art collectors, dealers, and curators of the day, served as the prototype for the Institute of Oriental Ceramics.36 Its members included George A. Eumorfopoulos (1863–1939, collector and first president of the OCS), Sir Percival David (1892–1964, collector and chairman of Sassoon J. David & Co., Ltd.), and Robert L. Hobson (1872–1941, Keeper of the Department of Oriental Antiquities and Ethnography at the British Museum). As the OCS published its annual Transactions, the Institute of Oriental Ceramics also issued its own bimonthly journal, Tōji. Although the name literally means “ceramics,” its official English translation was “Oriental Ceramics,” making evident its connection to the OCS. The contents page for each issue included English titles and abstracts for the essays. This must have been a deliberate gesture to show that the journal’s intended readership reached beyond Japan and to engage the Institute’s scholarly outputs in dialogue with the West.37 That is to say, the Institute aspired to be an international research organization reflecting globally diverse and intersecting discourses on tōyo ceramics. Moreover, from 1936, it published an annual English version of Tōji to present summaries of its major articles for an international readership. The opening statement in the first issue of Oriental Ceramics (December 1936) proclaimed: “In view of the growing demand, at home and abroad, we intend, from the current year on, to issue the annual reports with the English translations of leading articles.”38

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  137 The OCS played a significant formative role in the European understanding of Asian ceramics. The founding of the OCS signaled the development of the field of Chinese ceramics, evolved from “Oriental porcelain.” In the preface of the 1925 catalogue of his collection, Eumorfopoulos observed that “Oriental” formerly had meant mainly Qing dynasty (1644–1912) porcelain; only recently had a broader range of Chinese ceramics, including burial objects, become available in the West.39 Arthur L. Hetherington (1881–1960, collector and OCS member) pointed out that “interest in ­Chinese ceramics, especially those of pre-Song date,” resulted in the creation of the OCS.40 In other words, China assumed centrality in the broad category of “Oriental Ceramics,” and new patterns of collecting in the 1920s brought the development of a new chronology of both early and late Chinese ceramics. In rivalry with the West’s advancement of “Oriental Ceramics” studies, Japanese scholars of that time stressed their unique, historically conditioned role to lead the field, and they assigned a creative power and authority to Japanese consciousness in discerning Asian aesthetic sensibilities. For instance, while Okuda applauded Western scholars such as Robert L. ­Hobson and Berthold Laufer (1874–1934) for leading the modern discipline of Oriental Ceramics studies, he also asserted an inevitable gap that only the Japanese could fill.41 A leading figure of Korean ceramic studies at the time, Asakawa Noritaka (1884–1964), also recounted the limitations of Western scholarship in appreciating “Oriental Ceramics.”42 Kurahashi Tōjirō (1887–1946), a publisher, collector, and Saikokai member, further asserted the role of Japan, as the “civilized” leader of Asia, to enlighten the Western audience on the proper appreciation of tōyō ceramics.43 In this logic, both China and Korea (and their ceramics) become voiceless or meaningless to the West without Japan’s intervention. Tellingly, these statements embody popular rhetoric of the time, calling on the centering of Japan in tōyō (China and Korea) and asserting its role of preserving and manifesting the ideals of the past, rather than simply emulating a Western-centered world that had defined what “Oriental Ceramics” were. Japan’s “Asia/East” notion had developed through Japan’s long history of dealing with China. The distinction between Japan and China had not been geographically specific but rather geo-cultural, unstable, and vague. It was more of an imaginary boundary between a cultural inside and outside, and the word designating “China,” kara (literally Tang dynasty China), could also be used to refer to the notion of “other” more broadly, including other foreign countries. In this light, the historical construction of traditional Japanese painting (yamato-e) stood in opposition to the impact of Chinese painting (kara-e or kanga) on what followed in the archipelago.44 While a taste for karamono had already been in place from the eighth century, the aesthetic was fully codified and canonized under the patronage of the Ashikaga shogun Yoshimasa (1436–90), particularly within nascent tea

138  Seung Yeon Sang circles. The foreign origin and exotic appearance of karamono made them rare, costly, and desirable in Japan. In fact, objects known today as karamono include imports not only from China but also from Korea and other regions along the Silk Road.45 Breaking this established binary referencing self and other, the renowned tea master Sen no Rikyū (1522–91) promoted another realm of category called kōraimono (Korean things) and formalized its aesthetic as an embodiment of the harmonizing of Chinese and Japanese tastes.46 This recognition of kōraimono marked a turning point in terms of shaping an unknown, third category—neither Chinese nor Japanese—in the tea world. While the tea culture of the dominant military lords was all about displaying their wealth and power through rare and expensive Chinese exported items, Rikyū, hailing from a group of newly emerging merchants, led the way in celebrating the wabi style of tea by using Korean wares and placing emphasis on rustic and humble ideals. With this expansion of tea ceremony canons, rich merchants entered the field of tea culture, and their new mode of practice using recently discovered utensils such as Korean wares gained prominence. Japan’s modern construct of tōyō ceramics was conceived within this historical framework for imagining self and other. This time, however, Japan’s “other” was centered on the West (seiyō) instead of its prototype, China. For instance, Ernest Francisco Fenollosa (1853–1908), Kuki Ryūichi (1852– 1931), and Okakura Kakuzō (1862–1913) invented and promulgated the concept of Japanese-style painting (nihonga, not yamato-e) in opposition to Western-style painting (seiyōga).47 Thus the question can be posed: why tōyō ceramics rather than Japanese ceramics (Nihon no tōji)? The geo-cultural notion of tōyō manifests a borderline where Japan is part of Asia yet apart from it as the only “civilized” leader. It expresses as well how Japan at once turned to and revolted against the West. The ideological reorganization of the power order in tōyō inevitably called upon the contemporaneous discourse of Japan’s colonialism and recent ­i mperial history. To be sure, China (Shina, not Chūgoku, the Middle Kingdom) held unsurpassed importance as the origin of ceramic technology, and Korea (Chōsen) played a key role in transmitting its own ceramic tradition. In the creation of tōyō, China and Korea became an idealized space in the past where Japan developed; simultaneously, it established modern Japan’s superiority over China and equivalence with the West. In this logic, Japan’s aesthetic taste was central as an absolute measure for recognizing and ordering the hierarchical scale of tōyō ceramics. As a result, the greater narrative of Japan’s tōyō ceramics implies a history of Japan’s Chinese ceramics, Japan’s Korean ceramics, and so forth. This Japan-centric and pan-Asian ideology echoes Okakura’s ideal of “Asia is one,” the opening line of his 1903 book, The Ideals of the East.48 At the same time, the Japanese ceramic study groups aspired to present their studies worldwide and sought to win respect on the international scene.

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  139 In an essay on the appreciation of tōyō ceramics, Okuda argued that they attained perfection in modern Japan after a long process of absorbing the best elements of Chinese and Korean influences and overcoming Western challenges.49 Indeed, this view reflected currents that had affected Japan since the Meiji era, such as promoting the export of traditional-style crafts using new Western technology. This government-led export industry gave impetus to the establishment of educational institutions for training in the advanced technology from the West and leading the systematic research for traditional designs.50 In principle, the crux of Okuda’s perspective resonated with the dominant rhetoric of this time: Japan uniting the East as the sole guardian of Asian traditions against relentless Western threats. Again, this view is compatible with Okakura’s ideological construction of Japan as “a museum of Asiatic civilization” in The Ideals of the East (1903). What is more, Okuda propagated the idea that Japan not only safeguarded Asian artistic sensibilities from the past but also led Asiatic civilization and a desirable future for one Asia “which welcomes the new without losing the old,” as Okakura had described it.51 The three concepts shumi, kanshō, and tōyō together vividly illustrate the diverse and intertwined webs of Japanese discourse on the construction of ceramic studies during the Taisho era. Fueled by the remarkable growth of the art market—both for antiques surfacing from former daimyo collections and for ceramics newly excavated from tombs and kiln sites in China and Korea—art-collecting industrial leaders (modern tea men) became the new daimyo of modern Japan by spending lavishly on all forms of art and indulging in the pleasures of art collecting. Not only did they take part as crucial actors in the elite circles of collecting ceramics but they also gave impetus to the modern establishment of art ceramic appreciation. The Saikokai can be credited with introducing the term kanshō tōji, “ceramics for appreciation.” This form of appreciation emphasized the viewer’s role in seeing and discerning the aesthetic value of artifacts as autonomously knowable things. As a presiding figure in the field of ceramic studies, Okuda Seiichi went beyond the absolute tea canons inscribed in “objects of repute” in order to situate ceramics for appreciation within Western fine arts criteria. The emergence of the Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo marked a turning point in the formation of tōyō ceramic history as an academic discipline, setting it apart from established antiquarian and amateur practices of ceramic appreciation. Japan’s tōyō ceramics evolved into what were perceived in Japan as superior alternatives to the West’s “Oriental Ceramics.” Attuned to the pan-Asian rhetoric of his time, Okuda proclaimed Japan’s unique, historically conditioned role in preserving the essence of Asian civilization imbedded in tōyō ceramics and translating their artistic merits for a Western audience. Within the mutually shared but distinctive realms of shumi, kanshō, and tōyō, Japanese ceramics scholarship matured in the ensuing years.

140  Seung Yeon Sang

Notes 1 There is no consensus as yet on how to translate “Saikokai” into English; variations suggested by scholars include “Overglaze (or Enameled) Jar Society,” “Decorated Jar Society,” and “Colored Jar Society.” Nicole Coolidge Rousmaniere used “Overglaze Decorated Jar Society” (Rousmaniere, Vessels of Influence, 49). That choice is likely derived from the Saikokai’s first publication, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima, which decisively manifested the group’s major interest in porcelain with colored decoration and the direction of its activities. Here, I will take Chiaki Ajioka’s translation, “Colored Jar Society,” to refer to the Saikokai, as it defines their focus on colorful decoration on the surface of ceramics (Ajioka, “Aspects of Twentieth-Century Crafts,” 419). 2 Takeuchi, “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu.” 3 Hayashiya, “Shi Okuda Seiichi sensei o kataru.” 4 Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi.” 5 Satō, in “Nihon bijutsu” tanjō, deconstructs the foundation of Japan’s art history in the Meiji era by thoroughly assessing the linguistic and institutional systems for building new art canons, genres, and disciplines. 6 In Art, Tea, and Industry, Guth delineates, for the first time in English, the ways that the political vicissitudes and cultural fissures of the Meiji era enabled ­Japan’s new industrial and business leaders, as avid art collectors, to shape their taste over time, and how that process brought about a new paradigm in Japanese art history. 7 Yokoyama, “Tōyō tōji kenkyūshi ni okeru kindai sukisha no eikyō,” 106. 8 Kumakura, “Reexamining Tea,” 163. 9 According to Kida Takuya, there is no consensus on 1914 or 1916 as the Saikokai’s founding year because member’s memories differ. Kida provides different published definitions of the Saikokai’s establishment date. For instance, the dictionaries Genshoku tōki daijiten (1972) and Kadokawa Nihon tōji daijiten (2002) indicate 1914 for the founding of the Saikokai. Other texts give 1916 (Shinchō sekai bijutsu jiten [1985] and Takeuchi, “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu 16: Saikokai no yakuwari (sono hitotsu)”). I follow Kida Takuya’s research and use 1916 as the starting point of the Saikokai. See Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi,” 23–24. 10 Okuda, “Tōjiki kenkyūkai no kaiko,” 16. 11 Takeuchi, “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu 10: Shumi no tōki,” 68. 12 Okuda, “Nihon shumi tōjiki no hattatsu,” 383. 13 Ibid., 382, 384. 14 Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi,” 23. 15 Ibid., 24. 16 Fushutsusho, “Saikokai konjaku monogatari,” 11. 17 Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi,” 25. 18 Okuda, “Kotōjiki kanshō no kaiko,” 8. 19 Ōkōchi, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima, n.p. 20 Tomita, “The Momoyama Centrifugal Force—and at the Margin,” 96. 21 Ōkōchi, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima, 5–6. 22 Takahashi, Taishō meikikan. 23 Yokoyama, “Tōyō tōji kenkyūshi ni okeru kindai sukisha no eikyō,” 112. 24 Ibid., 109. 25 Ibid., 112. 26 Okuda, “Chaki no kanshō ni tsuite,” 98–99. 27 Ibid., 98. 28 Takeuchi, “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu 16: Saikokai no yakuwari (sono hitotsu),” 75. 29 Ōkōchi, Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima, 10–11.

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  141 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Kawashima, “Waga kuni ni okeru chūgoku kanshō tōji no juyō to sono hensen,” 41. Pai, Constructing “Korean” Origins, 24–25. See Okuda’s Saikokai lectures Unkaku seiji and Chōsen Mishima no hanashi. Tanaka, Japan’s Orient, 107. “Sōkan no ji” (On the publication of our journal), Tōji 1, no. 1 (November 1927): 1, quoted in Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi,” 27. Ibid., 20. Ibid., 27. Ibid., 27. Okuda, “Foreword,” 7. George A. Eumorfopoulos, preface to Hobson, Eumorfopoulos Collection 1. Hetherington, “A History of the Oriental Ceramic Society,” 9. Okuda, Saikokai kōenruku: Tōjiki no kanshō ni tsuite, 297. Asakawa, Chōsen tōki no kanshō, 25–26. Kurahashi, “Chōsen kōgei no Tōyō bunka ni tsuite chii,” 14–15. Satō, Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State, 177. Guth, Art, Tea, and Industry, 46. Kumakura, “Sen no Rikyū,” 59. Satō, Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State, 177. Okakura, Ideals of the East. Okuda, “Tōyō tōjiki no kanshō,” 9–10. Kikuchi, Japanese Modernization and Mingei Theory, 82–85. Okakura, Okakura Kakuzō, 14.

References Ajioka, Chiaki, “Aspects of Twentieth-Century Crafts: The New Craft and Mingei Movements.” In Since Meiji: Perspectives on the Japanese Visual Arts, 1868–2000, edited by Toshiko M. McCallum and J. Thomas Rimer, 408–444. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2012. Asakawa Noritaka. Saikokai kōenroku: Chōsen tōki no kanshō [The records of the Saikokai lectures: Appreciation of Korean ceramics]. Tokyo: Saikokai, 1935. Fushutsusho Kōnan. “Saikokai konjaku monogatari” [The Saikokai story: Now and then]. Hoshigaoka 24 (October 1932): 9–13. Hayashiya Seizō. “Shi Okuda Seiichi sensei o kataru” [My teacher, Okuda Seiichi]. Tōyō tōji 42 (2013): 5–14. Hetherington, Arthur L. “A History of the Oriental Ceramic Society.” Transactions of the Oriental Ceramic Society 23 (1947/48): 9–12. Hobson, Robert Lockhart. The Eumorfopoulos Collection 1: From Chou to the End of the Tang Dynasty. London: E. Benn Ltd., 1925. Guth, Christine M.E. Art, Tea, and Industry: Masuda Takashi and the Mitsui Circle. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993. Kawashima Tadashi. “Waga kuni ni okeru chūgoku kanshō tōji no juyō to sono hensen” [The reception of Chinese ceramics for visual appreciation in Japan, and its changes]. Tōyō tōji 42 (2013): 37–66. Kida Takuya. “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi: Tōjiki Kenkyūkai/ Saikokai/ Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo—Taishoki o chūshin ni” [Ōkōchi Masatoshi and Okuda Seiichi: The Tōjiki Kenkyūkai, Saikokai, and Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo—focusing on the Taisho era]. Tōyō tōji 42 (2013): 15–36. Kikuchi, Yuko. Japanese Modernization and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004.

142  Seung Yeon Sang Kumakura Isao. “Reexamining Tea: ‘Yuisho,’ ‘Suki,’ ‘Yatsushi,’ and ‘­Furumai.’” Translated and adapted by Peter McMillan. Monumenta Nipponica 57, no. 1 (Spring, 2002): 1–42. ———. “Sen no Rikyū: Inquiries into His Life and Tea.” In Tea in Japan: Essays on the History of Chanoyu, edited by Paul Varley and Kumakura Isao, 33–69. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1989. Kurahashi Tōjirō. “Chōsen kōgei no Tōyō bunka ni tsuite chii” [Mapping Korean ceramics in Oriental culture]. In Zaidan hōjin Keimeikai kōenshū 55: Chōsen no tōki [Compilation of the Keimeikai lectures 55: Korean ceramics]. Tokyo: Keimeikai, 1934, 3–25. Okakura Kakuzō. Okakura Kakuzō: Collected English Writings 1. Tokyo: H ­ eibonsha, 1984. ———. The Ideals of the East, with Special Reference to the Arts of Japan. London: J. Murray, 1903. Ōkōchi Masatoshi. Kakiemon to Iro Nabeshima [Kakiemon and colored Nabeshima wares]. Tokyo: Gendai no Kangukusha, 1916. Okuda Seiichi. “Chaki no kanshō ni tsuite” [On the appreciation of the utensils of the tea ceremony]. Kokka 340 (September 1918): 98–105. ———. “Foreword.” Oriental Ceramics 7. Tokyo: Institute of Oriental Ceramics, 1936. ———. “Kotōjiki kanshō no kaiko” [Recollections of the appreciation of old ceramics]. Nihon bijutsu kōgei 151 (1951): 8–9. ———. “Nihon shumi tōjiki no hattatsu” [The development of the Japanese taste in ceramics]. Kokka 347 (April 1919): 382–85. ———. Saikokai kōenroku: Chōsen Mishima no hanashi [The records of the Saikokai lectures: Korean buncheong]. Tokyo: Saikokai, 1924. ———. Saikokai kōenroku: Tōjiki no kanshō ni tsuite: honshitsu, seisaku, shumi [The records of the Saikokai lectures: Ceramic appreciation: essence, production, and taste]. Tokyo: Saikokai, 1925. ———. Saikokai kōenroku: Unkaku seiji [The records of the Saikokai lectures: Crane-and-clouds celadon]. Tokyo: Saikokai, 1923. ———. “Tōjiki kenkyūkai no kaiko” [Recollections of the ceramic study groups]. Chawan 23 (1949): 13–17. ———. “Tōyō tōjiki no kanshō” [Appreciation of Oriental ceramics]. Tōji 6 (­O ctober 1928). Pai, Hyung Il. Constructing “Korean” Origins: A Critical Review of Archaeology, Historiography, and Racial Myth in Korean State-Formation Theories. Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Asia Center, 2000. Rousmaniere, Nicole Coolidge. Vessels of Influence: China and the Birth of Porcelain in Medieval and Early Modern Japan. London: Bristol Classical Press, 2012. Satō Dōshin. Modern Japanese Art and the Meiji State: The Politics of Beauty. Translated by Hiroshi Nara. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2011. ———. “Nihon bijutsu” tanjō: Kindai Nihon no “kotoba” to senryaku [The birth of “Japanese Art”: The “language” and strategy of modern Japan]. Tokyo: ­Kōdansha, 1996. Takahashi Yoshio. Taishō meikikan [Taisho catalogue of famous vessels]. Tokyo: Taishō Meikikan Hensanjo, 1921–28. Takeuchi Jun’ichi. “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu 10: Shumi no tōki” [Introduction to Japanese ceramic studies 10: Ceramics for pleasure]. Tōsetsu 579 (June 2001): 68–71.

New language of ceramics in Taisho Japan  143 ———. “Nihon tōji kenkyūshi josetsu 16: Saikokai no yakuwari (sono hitotsu)” ­[Introduction to Japanese ceramic studies 16: The Saikokai’s role, part 1]. Tōsetsu 592 (July 2002): 72–75. Tanaka, Stefan. Japan’s Orient: Rendering Pasts into History. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. Tomita Yasuko. “The Momoyama Centrifugal Force—and at the Margins.” In Shōwa no Momoyama fukkō: tōgei kindaika no tenkanten / Modern Revival of ­ Momoyama Ceramics: Turning Point Toward Modernization of Ceramics. Tokyo: National Museum of Modern Art, 2002. Yokoyama Azusa, “Tōyō tōji kenkyūshi ni okeru kindai sukisha no eikyō: Taishō meikikan hakkan no jirei kara no kōsatsu” [The influence of the modern tea connoisseur on the history of the study of East Asian ceramics: A consideration from the example of the publication of the Taishō meikikan]. Tōyō tōji 42 (2013): 105–15.

8 The nude, the empire, and the porcelain vessel idiom of Tomimoto Kenkichi Meghen Jones

On a warm day at the Jardin Marco Polo in Paris, two young Japanese artists, Fujikawa Yūzō (1883–1935) and Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963), posed for a picture in front of a fountain (fig. 8.1).1 The date was likely April of 1910.2 Fujikawa was in the city to study at the Académie Julian, and Tomimoto was visiting from London, where he had been immersed in the study of stained glass and sketching objects on view at the Victoria and Albert Museum. While the two would later embark on different pursuits— bronze figurative sculpture and ceramic vessels, ­respectively—this photo captures a dynamic phase in their development as artists. Tomimoto, during his year and a half sojourn abroad, gained exposure to the British Arts and Crafts movement’s emphasis on the i­deals of individual handwork and

Figure 8.1  Tomimoto Kenkichi and Fujikawa Yū zō at the Fontaine de l’Observatoire, Paris, 1909 or 1910.  Photograph. Minami Kunzō Kinenkan.

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  145 bringing beauty to everyday life, as well as the ideals of modernist European sculpture. He later developed a cosmopolitan, ­modern approach to ceramics, resulting in his being regarded by many as a twentieth-­c entury pioneer of the medium. This image of the two young artists before the fountain also provides a useful starting point for analyzing Tomimoto’s ceramics in the context of imperialism. Dedicated in 1874, the fountain’s central sculpture, The Four Parts of the World Holding the Celestial Sphere, represents one of Prix de Rome – winning artist Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux’s most well-known subjects. Carpeaux depicted Asia, Africa, America, and Europe as four semi-nude figures, legs entwined, holding up a revolving globe. Each except Europe bears a discernible attribute—Asia, braided hair; ­Africa, a shackled ankle; and America, a feather headdress. America’s foot presses on Africa’s shackles, symbolizing emancipation from slavery and revealing the artist’s awareness of the age. It is telling that Carpeaux conceived of such a global theme on the cusp of the “age of empire” in terms of the number, scale, and influence of imperial regimes throughout the world.3 The sculpture thus invites examination of how modern artists used the nude figure allegorically to represent empire, a subject germane not only to Europe but also to late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japan. Tomimoto encountered Carpeaux’s sculpture and, as he later reminisced, the nude figurative sculptures of Aristide Maillol (1861–1944) in Paris around the time of Japan’s annexation of Korea. Modern European nude figurative sculpture and K ­ orean Joseon dynasty (1392–1910) porcelain jars would converge as twin influences on Tomimoto’s porcelain vessels, the focus of this chapter. While modern Japanese painters and sculptors’ engagement with the ­European discourse of the nude has been the subject of much scholarly inquiry, less attention has been devoted to that of artists using craft mediums. This chapter thus addresses how the medium of ceramics was enmeshed in the modern discourses of the nude and Japanese imperialism. I will examine a major object type in Tomimoto’s oeuvre from the late 1910s onwards, the undecorated porcelain vessel, in order to reveal how a seemingly simple, white, globular ceramic jar was laden with the artist’s aspirations of modernist expression amid the backdrop of Japanese imperialism. Examining Tomimoto’s undecorated porcelain vessels through three hermeneutic prisms—the nude, the empire, and the vessel—highlights how ceramics in modern Japan shared with art of other mediums key attributes of modernism, in Japan and beyond. Upon Tomimoto’s return from London, he became active in the 1910s cosmopolitan art scene of painters, photographers, and others organizing exhibitions and publications in Tokyo. He collaborated with several members of the Shirakaba group, a literary and arts organization that sponsored events and published a journal from 1910 to 1923. In part due to the mutual interest he shared in ceramics with then-etcher, British artist Bernard Leach (1887– 1979), Tomimoto added Raku ceramics to his repertoire of processes— most notably at that time watercolor painting and woodblock printmaking.

146  Meghen Jones Delving into multiple mediums simultaneously influenced how Tomimoto approached the ceramics medium as one with the potential for individualistic expression, an aspect of modernism intrinsic to his oeuvre. By 1915, having left Tokyo for his birthplace of Ando-mura, Nara Prefecture, he built a high-temperature kiln, and, within several years, began working with the technically challenging medium of porcelain. Considered Tomimoto’s first work in porcelain, a small, undecorated jar made in 1919 represents what developed into a major idiom of his career (fig. 8.2).4 Its wide base swells slightly in the middle before narrowing at the shoulder to a relatively narrow neck. A thickly applied milky, semi-matte glaze envelops the white clay body. The form and scale of his white porcelain jars (in Japanese, hakuji tsubo, as he referred to them) varied slightly over time, from straight-sided, smaller early forms to more globular, larger later ones.5 The Gifu Ceramics Museum’s 1941 jar is prototypical of the later examples in terms of material, scale, and surface (fig. 8.3).6 While Tomimoto labeled these vessels tsubo—generally translated as “jar”—it is important to note the multivalence of the term. Dating to the eighth century, it initially conveyed either a hollowed-out vessel for holding things or a deep hole. Later, it also came to mean target or vital point.7 The written character tsubo derives from the ancient Chinese hu 壺, a wine storage vessel. These vessels all conformed to the requirements of utility. At times they served as receptacles for floral arrangements, as we see in an image of Tomimoto and Leach’s exhibition of 1931 at the Beaux Art Gallery, London (fig. 8.4). On display at a premier gallery for painting, drawings, and prints

Figure 8.2  Tomimoto Kenkichi, porcelain jar, 1919. 16.5  x 16 cm. Private collection.

Figure 8.3  Tomimoto Kenkichi, large porcelain jar, 1941. 27 x 36.1  cm. Gifu Prefectural Ceramics Museum.

Figure 8.4  Installation, Stoneware Pottery and Porcelain by Kenkichi Tomimoto and Bernard Leach, Beaux Arts Gallery, London, May 5–22, 1931.  Image (BHL/8785) kindly provided by the Crafts Study Centre, University for the Creative Arts.

148  Meghen Jones by modern European artists, Tomimoto’s tsubo were displayed, foremost, as functional vessels. In Japan, some owners affixed lacquer lids to his porcelain jars, transforming them into mizusashi, fresh water containers for the tea ceremony.8 In “Ceramics concerned with beauty” (Bi o nen to suru tōki), published around the time of his initial foray into porcelain vessels, Tomimoto wrote, “Ceramics which have been conceived of as beautiful, but for which use has been forgotten, are not good … The beauty and utility of a craft object are like the flesh and heart of a human being.”9 Such a sentiment reflects the Mingei (folk craft) movement’s ideological core as promulgated by its founder Yanagi Sōetsu (1889–1961)—this is unsurprising since around that time Tomimoto was active in the group. Like the multivalence of the term tsubo, however, the meaning of these vessels over time stretched beyond that of strict utility, resonating in various ways with modern art of other mediums.

The “source of life” in modernist vessels: Form, autonomous execution, and purity In a recent assessment of modern Japanese ceramics, Kaneko Kenji suggested that Tomimoto should be regarded, above all, as an “artist of form.”10 In “White porcelain jar” (Hakuji no tsubo), published in the 1940 book Seitō yoroku (Ceramics-making records), Tomimoto deconstructed the essential points of a jar (tsubo): “Looking upon a jar, what’s most important is its form. Glaze and surface designs (moyō) are just decoration for the main form. Of course glaze and patterns play an important role in bringing out beauty, but the source of life in three-dimensional jars is form [­italics added].”11 Such an appraisal of form over ornament aligns with one of the fundamental principles of modernist design in early twentieth-­c entury ­Europe and beyond.12 Tomimoto anchored his discourse of form in the autonomous control over each segment of ceramics production. Also in the essay “White porcelain jar” cited above, he lamented that “master throwers” often were responsible for executing ceramic forms on the wheel, but that issues of scale made it difficult for artists to entrust the task to technicians and achieve desired effects. He claimed that this was why he “always” threw vessels on the wheel himself, despite his “poor skills.”13 As judge for the 1936 Imperial Art Academy Exhibition (Teikoku Bijutsuin Tenrankai, or Teiten), Tomimoto insisted that applicants themselves should throw ceramic forms on the wheel. This stance, as critic Nakata Mitsuo claimed, resulted in a drop in the number of accepted ceramics.14 Tomimoto’s pots were often heavier and sometimes uneven in comparison to those executed by trained professionals dedicated to producing large quantities of standardized wares. He described his throwing process as not involving sketching beforehand, but, “just sitting and, while thinking, bringing out the form.”15 This mode of creation paralleled that of sōsaku hanga (creative prints) artists, active in the late Meiji and early Taisho eras, and Tomimoto himself created influential

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  149 prints of this genre in the early 1910s.16 Sōsaku hanga expression relied on artists executing all aspects of object production, in contrast to typical pre-modern modes of multiple artisans contributing to the realization of a final work.17 Appearing to control all phases of production positioned Tomimoto’s ceramics, like sōsaku hanga prints, as modernist works of art born of the creativity of an individual.18 It should be noted, however, that from his earliest period of ceramics-making onward, Tomimoto employed assistants in the studio, like most Japanese ceramists of his time and since.19 Bernard Leach, too, as E ­ dmund de Waal has observed, professed the importance of commandeering all aspects of pottery production, yet the reality was not that of a lone potter working in isolation.20 Once pieces were executed on the wheel, Tomimoto claimed, he selected the ones with the most successful forms to leave undecorated in order to highlight their strength and purity of execution. In “Thoughts about ceramics techniques” (Tōwaza kansō), published in his 1948 book Ceramics: A collection of essays (Tōki zuihitsushū), he explained his process of editing: I do not plan the use of underglaze when I make forms on the wheel … I make twenty to thirty jars, and then place them to dry in the open air under the blue sky. Of these, one-third are complete and their forms are enough; decoration is not necessary. For the next third I engrave decoration or apply sometsuke (blue underglaze), and for the last third I use the forms as a base for iro-e (over glaze painting). That is my usual practice … The reason to apply iro-e on unbalanced forms is to regulate the defects of form with a great deal of coloration and pattern. To put it simply, a white porcelain form is endowed with all of one’s strength. It has no deceit whatsoever and is pure [italics added].21 Such a perception of a lack of “deceit” in undecorated porcelain vessels resonates with the transnational modernist value of artistic truth. For example, the British Arts and Crafts ideal of “truth to materials,” of which Tomimoto was undoubtedly aware, carried into the twentieth century as a fundamental aspect of modern design.22 Tomimoto’s emphasis on purity also mirrors that of Japanese “Western-style” (yōga) painters in their search for artistic truth. In 1916, Yorozu Tetsugorō described his development as a painter in terms of his ability to “grasp the truth of the object (mono no makoto)” and the “truth of the self ( jiko no makoto).”23 Yorozu and Tomimoto participated in the same networks of Shirakaba and sōsaku hanga artists at that time. A search for truth in material, form, and self defines Tomimoto’s praxis as realized in his undecorated porcelain vessels. Critics’ praise of his porcelain jars undoubtedly buoyed Tomimoto’s career-­long continuation of the idiom alongside colorful overglaze porcelain and other works. For example, in his review of the 1936 Teiten exhibition, critic Watanabe Soshū described a jar by Tomimoto on display as imparting a “pure feeling” (seijunna shinkan) to porcelain.24 An anonymous reviewer

150  Meghen Jones referred to the same jar as the “sole work in the Teiten exuding that kind of plain beauty.”25 The aforementioned critic Nakata Mitsuo, in a Teikoku kōgei review, described it as ushering in a “fresh spirit” (shinsenna ki) to the exhibition, as one of only two or three ceramic works that were progressive and worthy of seeing.26 Indeed, it was the only piece within that year’s Teiten craft section that lacked decorative surface patterning. Such praise countered the relative lack of buyers at first for the work. According to historian Naitō Tadashi, in the late 1920s “nobody … had a taste for plain white pottery [and Tomimoto] had a difficult time selling it.”27 Tomimoto cited the lack of decoration as the cause.28 One may surmise that if collectors were easily obtaining original Joseon dynasty Korean white porcelain in the art market of the colonial period, they might have preferred authentic historical works to modern interpretations.

The nude in Paris and Tokyo In the aforementioned essay, “White porcelain jar” (Hakuji no tsubo), Tomimoto compared the beauty of white porcelain’s surface to the skin of a nude body, apparent when “decorative colored and patterned clothes are stripped off.”29 He traced his initial interest in porcelain’s skin-like surface to sculpture he had seen in France. In an essay published in 1948, he wrote that he “began to be interested in using thick, soft glaze on porcelain after seeing the plump fleshiness of small figurative sculptures by [Aristide] Maillol in France.”30 Presumably he refers here to his aforementioned visit to France in 1910, before he began working with clay. Thus, it may appear as a mature artist’s wistful framing of his development to claim inspiration from Maillol, or even an attempt to highlight the sculptural import of the modern ceramic vessel. However, evidence suggests that earlier, too, Tomimoto mused about Maillol’s sculpture in relation to ceramics, specifically those of Joseon dynasty Korea. In an article of 1928, Tomimoto’s assistant, Kondō Yūzō (1902–85) connected Maillol’s work to Joseon porcelain, describing Maillol’s sculpture as exuding a “concealed vanity and beautiful, modest taste” similar to Korean ceramics’ sabi (the beauty of materials worn over time).31 Given that Kondō had been Tomimoto’s assistant starting in 1919, it is likely that he was echoing here the sentiments of his employer. More recently, former director of the Tomimoto Kenkichi Memorial Museum, Yamamoto Shigeo, equated the deliberate “awkwardness” (gaucherie) of Maillol’s sculpture with the style of literati painter Tanomura Chikuden (1777–1835), the artist after whom Tomimoto was named.32 Kondō and Yamamoto’s views suggest a commensurability of pre-modern East Asian aesthetics and European modernism via a conflation of ceramics, sculpture, and painting. Tomimoto’s comment about Maillol thus represents part of a much larger discourse of the nude in art and ceramics in modern Japan. In Paris, Tomimoto likely saw figures by Maillol like the 1906 Carrara marble sculpture La Méditerranée (fig. 8.5). One of a series, this sculpture

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  151

Figure 8.5  A ristide Maillol, La Méditerranée, ca. 1906. Carrara marble, 21.6 x 17.2 x  12.7  cm. National Gallery of Art, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon.

typifies Maillol’s emphasis on form combined with a primitivist approach to the figure. In 1905, French artist and theorist Maurice Denis labeled Maillol, in comparison to Auguste Rodin, a new master whose works, like those of Cézanne and Gauguin, displayed a “naïve sensuality, simplicity, and unadorned nobility” with the “flavor of fresh and very pure water.” Denis used the term gaucherie to capture a sense of awkwardness manifested by the artist’s sincerity and emotion. For him, Maillol combined “the virtue of a classic with the innocence of a primitive.”33 In Tokyo, too, Tomimoto likely would have seen Maillol’s work on several occasions, starting with a 1913 exhibition organized by the Shirakaba group, in which Tomimoto was active. It featured two nude figure subjects by Maillol: Femme assise, bras levé, a sculpture, and Étude de nu, a drawing. Tomimoto would have also had the opportunity to read about Maillol in publications such as Takujō, the magazine for which he contributed cover designs.34 Additionally, Chūō bijutsu published a text by American artist John La Farge (1835–1910) about Maillol in 1921.35 Then, in the April 1923 issue of Shirakaba, three figurative sculptures by Maillol were illustrated. Even considering publications and exhibitions featuring his work, admiration for Maillol was relatively rare in early twentieth-century Japan, and scholarly attention to the sculptor did not proliferate until after World War II. This is likely because interest in Rodin’s sculpture overshadowed that

152  Meghen Jones for Maillol. For example, at the 1913 Shirakaba exhibition with two Maillol works, there were 20 by Rodin.36 Yanagi Sōetsu, a vocal member of the ­Shirakaba group, expressed a great admiration for Rodin’s sculpture. In addition to its aesthetic aspects, one possible reason that Tomimoto admired Maillol’s sculpture is that he wished to distinguish himself from Yanagi.37 Especially in the 1930s, Tomimoto expressed criticism of Yanagi’s craft ideology, and this perhaps extended to Yanagi’s views on sculpture as well. Tomimoto’s claim that Maillol influenced his white porcelain gains even more significance when we trace the nude as artistic subject within Tomimoto’s artists’ circle in the 1910s to 1930s. The Shirakaba literary and arts group, an assembly that had much in common with the interests of Post-­ Impressionists in Europe, provided a means of artistic exchange in this regard. Oil painter Umehara Ryūzaburō (1888–1986), photographer Nojima Yasuzō (1889–1964), and then-printmaker Bernard Leach were all Shira­ kaba members close to Tomimoto who explored the nude as an artistic subject. It is no wonder that the four had mutual concerns and approaches to subjects and style, since at that time they were all negotiating the positions as modern art of their respective mediums—oil painting, photography, prints, and ceramics. To embark on explorations of artistic materials, they used the platform of the Kokuten (Kokuga Sōsaku Kyōkai Tenrankai, or National Painting Society Exhibition), which continues to this day and is generally acknowledged as the largest public exhibition in Japan. In 1918, nihonga (Japanese painting) artists established the Kokuten in order to embrace creative expression and counter the dominant government-­sponsored Bunten (later, the Teiten). Having originally focused on nihonga, in 1925 the exhibition expanded to include yōga, with paintings by Umehara. Then for the 1927 Kokuten, Tomimoto exhibited over 200 ceramics with Nojima Yasuzō’s photographs of his sketches in a one-room special “retrospective” (kaikoten) held at Tokyo’s Metropolitan Art Museum.38 Because two-­dimensional works in the form of sketches were included, it may have seemed quite natural to consider Tomimoto’s art—by then the creations of an established ceramist—an extension of yōga, and in May 1927, Tomimoto became an official member of the organization’s new yōga division.39 However, most observers would not consider him a yōga artist, thus such labeling of his work in 1927 exemplifies the sometimes fluid nature of classifications in which ceramists’ work could be understood at that time. Many in the Shirakaba group showed interest in Post-Impressionists’ emphasis on artistic facture and the subject matter of the “savage” as typified in their 1910s Tokyo exhibitions including paintings of Paul Gauguin and others. Throughout his oeuvre, Umehara approached depicting the nude figure according to such Post-Impressionist stylistic influences. Imperfect proportions, thick limbs, and an overall visceral expression, as in his 1933 oil on canvas painting, Seated Woman, correspond to the late style of A ­ uguste ­Renoir, his teacher (fig. 8.6). Although Umehara did not create ceramics,

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  153

Figure 8.6  Umehara Ryūzaburō, Seated Woman, 1933. Oil on canvas. 92 x 60 cm. Private collection.

his depictions of Chinese porcelain in still-life oil paintings led one observer to compare them to “naked, living breathing flesh.”40 Leach, too, clearly belongs to the group of artists in early twentieth-century Japan engaged in Post-Impressionist expression. This connection is evident in his small print entitled Savage, which appeared in Yanagi’s 1915 book documenting Leach’s experiences, An Artist in Japan (fig. 8.7). Savage exemplifies the engagement among the Shirakaba group with primitivism and the art of Paul Gauguin. According to JVG Mallet, Leach portrayed in it “a girl from the wild North of the country exhibited to an interested Japanese public exactly as though she were a wild animal. It recorded his compassion for her.”41 Leach’s choice of subject resonates with the “primitive” values Yanagi had praised in the work of Gauguin. In a 1912 issue of the magazine Shirakaba, Yanagi wrote that Gauguin “sought to depict nature with his innocent, childlike heart by returning to the essentials … For him the primitive, simple human beings were what represented life.”42 While Leach did not continue to pursue the nude as subject in the vein of Savage, such an example reveals the depth

154  Meghen Jones

Figure 8.7  Bernard Leach, A Savage, 1915–20.  From Yanagi Sōetsu, ed. An English Artist in Japan. Tokyo: Private publication, 1920.

with which his work intersected with that of the Post-Impressionists, and, like Umehara, Leach communicated with Tomimoto with frequency from the 1910s onward. Seen together, Tomimoto and Nojima’s work reflects a shared pursuit of artistic purity and the primacy of form. Nojima earned recognition for his pigment-printed figurative and still-life photographs; his co-founding, with Nayakama Iwata (1895–1949) and Kimura Ihei (1901–74), of the magazine Kōga (1932–33); and the several art gallery spaces that he established. Having met Tomimoto at a Shirakaba group event, between 1921 and 1925 Nojima hosted exhibitions of Tomimoto’s ceramics and sketches at his home gallery, the Nojima Tei (Nojima Salon). For the 1933 book Tomimoto Kenkichi tōkishū (Collection of ceramics), he also photographed Tomimoto’s ceramics.43 One print in this book employs light and shade cascading onto the porcelain form in a manner akin to that of Nojima’s photographs of the nude body, with lighting emphasizing the soft, flesh-like texture of its surface (fig. 8.8). Nojima presented the weight and gravity of a ceramics form resting on a surface as if it were a human body, as he did for the subject of an untitled 1931 photograph of a nude woman crouching on the floor (fig. 8.9). While the pose recalls those of Man Ray’s famously controversial

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  155

Figure 8.8  Nojima Yasuzō, photograph of Tomimoto Kenkichi, hakuji tsubo, in Nojima Yasuzō, ed. Tomimoto Kenkichi tōkishū (Tomimoto Kenkichi ceramics collection). Tokyo: Private publication, 1933. 

Figure 8.9  Nojima Yasuzō, Untitled, 1931, Bromoil print, 275 x 405 mm. ­National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto.

photographs of the 1930s, Nojima’s photographs of the nude at that time, as Philip Charrier has described them, were influenced by Post-Impressionist European painting and culminated in an expression of “primitivistic eroticism.”44 Whatever the medium, Umehara, Leach, Nojima, and Tomimoto approached the nude as a somewhat primitivist subject with which to explore form and facture.

156  Meghen Jones

The Joseon body in the colonial period of Japan During the first decades of the colonial period, Tomimoto actively participated in the movement of artists, collectors, and scholars deeply engaged with Korean objects and ideas. Given the formal similarities between Tomimoto’s porcelain jars and Joseon porcelain, it is important to identify the contexts of colonialism and primitivism of the time, in which artists and collectors perceived a purity and truth in cultural artifacts from Korea.45 Between 1910 and 1945, Japanese artists and collectors accessed Korean art and artifacts subject to two seemingly paradoxical colonialist ideologies. One positioned colonized peoples as less advanced, even “primitive.” The other justified colonization by claiming that the people of Japan and Korea shared a common ancestry (nissen dōsoron). The empire of Japan’s legitimization of the occupation of Korea thus impacted the period’s connoisseurship of Korean artistic objects, including ceramics. Connoisseurs not only reified the primitive aspects of Korean ceramics and highlighted the common origins between Korean and Japanese ceramics, however. For some observers, the undecorated white porcelain jars of the Joseon dynasty embodied modernist aesthetics. Joseon jars inspired an early twentieth-­ century Japanese discourse of corporeal and gendered inflections layered with colonialist rhetoric; in this period, the Joseon porcelain white vessel idiom became a synecdoche for the Korean woman’s nude body. A renowned example purchased in Seoul by Bernard Leach in 1935 epitomizes the Joseon moon-shaped white jar object type in terms of its color, undulating spherical form, and surface irregularities (fig. 8.10).46 In ­seventeenth- to eighteenth-century Joseon dynasty Korea when it was made, the jar’s unadorned quality conformed to neo-Confucian elites’ ethical aesthetics of frugality that aligned with their principles of governance. Joseon dynasty scholar-officials are believed to have placed in their studies vessels like these, known today as dal hang-ari (moon jars).47 Instead of bearing any colorful ornament, the clay’s innate qualities come to the fore, a material emphasis that Choi Kun has described as a “moderated beauty” promoting balance between humans and nature according to Joseon values.48 Such associations are a far cry from Tomimoto’s claim that his white porcelain vessels were inspired by Maillol’s nude sculptures. Further, placing Tomimoto’s 1941 vase (fig. 8.3) next to the Joseon jar illustrated in fig. 8.9, several major differences become apparent. Tomimoto’s vessel is much smaller and more symmetrical. The Joseon jar’s potter executed it not as a single thrown vessel like Tomimoto’s but as two bowls joined at the lips. However, the two jars share the fundamental formal properties of material, overall shape, and surface treatment, and evidence suggests that Joseon porcelain indeed imparted a profound influence on Tomimoto. Korea had long been a prized cradle of ceramics among Japanese collectors and aesthetes. In particular, late sixteenth-century tea men’s appreciation of its stoneware bowls elevated them to the highest possible echelon of medieval Japanese aesthetics. In the twentieth century, tea master Takahashi

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  157

Figure 8.10   A non., white porcelain “moon jar.” Korea, seventeenth–eighteenth century. H. 47 cm. British Museum.

Sōan’s (1861–1937) ten-volume Taishō meikikan (Taisho catalogue of famous vessels), published from 1921 to 1928, established a modern canon of tea utensils that included works from Korea.49 But Tomimoto and his circle did not seek the rustic “peasant” Korean ceramics of the type collected by Momoyama tea connoisseurs and revived in the Taisho era, nor the elegant celadon wares of the Goryeo dynasty (918–1392). They looked instead to the porcelain wares of the Joseon dynasty, objects that had never held a significant stature within the tea ceremony (chanoyu), the praxeological foundation of so much connoisseurship of ceramics throughout Japanese history. In part, Mingei movement leader Yanagi Sōetsu influenced this contrarian perspective, since he desired to distinguish himself from the elitism of chanoyu culture.50 To an extent, Tomimoto and his circle turned to Joseon porcelain for its modernist formal properties they observed. In his 1922 essay “The Value of Korean Ceramics,” noted collector and scholar of Korean ceramics Asa­ kawa Noritaka wrote that Korean ceramics “have an extremely modern feeling.”51 He prefaced this remark by describing Bernard Leach’s appreciation of a Korean jar, using Leach to position the assessment of Korean ceramics into a more global context. In other words, Joseon porcelain could be appreciated in ways distinct from other types of Korean ceramics, as evidenced by claims of Western artists like Leach.52

158  Meghen Jones Korean ceramics also represented a pre-modern unadulterated reservoir of Japanese aesthetics. Tomimoto claimed he was first drawn to Korean ceramics alongside Leach at the Colonial Exposition at Ueno, Tokyo, in the autumn of 1912.53 He recounted: I saw porcelain in the Keijō [Seoul] Industrial Training Center display with vases, plates, and representative objects from modern Korea. Leach said, “I want to get some of that clay and try it out. The glory of late ceramics has been preserved much better in Korea than in Japan … Somehow, let’s go see Korea.”54 It was only the previous year, in 1911, that Tomimoto and Leach had their first encounter with the creative processes of ceramics. During this germinal phase of their development as ceramists, they searched for technical knowledge and were particularly receptive to outside influences. Tomimoto’s interest in Korean porcelain continued to develop, and in May of 1921 he helped Yanagi Sōetsu organize an exhibition of Korean ceramics in ­Tokyo.55 Yanagi had first ventured to Korea in August of 1916, and by 1921 had established a plan for a Korean Folk Art Gallery in Seoul that officially opened in April 1924.56 In September and October of 1922, Tomimoto traveled to Korea, as he stated, in order to study there before it was too late.57 He also helped Yana­g i and the Asakawa brothers organize an exhibition of Korean ceramics featuring 400 works of mostly Joseon stoneware and porcelain.58 Over the course of three weeks in Korea, he visited the exhibition every morning, studying “tenmoku, iron-glazed ware, white Goryeo [dynasty] wares, celadon, inlay, buncheong (mishima), hakeme, and iron Goryeo wares.”59 Tomimoto’s sketches of sometsuke blue decorated porcelain vessels and shards exhibited there became the basis for several of his surface designs on porcelain plates and other vessels. He described the experience of entering one room as if he were “a child entering a toy shop,” and asserted, “Though the room was small, of all the ceramics I have ever seen, never have I encountered this level of masterpieces.”60 This experience of studying a variety of wares kindled Tomimoto’s interest in not only white undecorated porcelain but also sometsuke-decorated works, revealing his passion for all types of Joseon porcelain. His interest in literati culture and sketches of Korean architectural sites coalesced in a group of sometsuke porcelain works he made in the 1920s and 1930s. In form and use of blue pigment, his sometsuke water droppers and brush stands clearly derived from Joseon precedents.61 His drawings of city gates such as the Seoul Eastern Gate became leitmotifs painted on ceramic surfaces. In particular, he transferred nostalgic sketches of several Korean architectural monuments to sometsuke in pale blue tones on porcelain tōban (ornamental plates) that he made through the 1930s. One example is the 1934 work Full Moon over the East Gate in Seoul (Keijō tōdaimon mangetsu, fig. 8.11).

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  159

Figure 8.11  Tomimoto Kenkichi, Full Moon over the East Gate in Seoul (Keijō tōdaimon mangetsu), 1934. Porcelain ornamental plate (tōban) with underglaze blue, 2 x 27.6 cm. Crafts Gallery, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo.

A romanticist undercurrent propelled the turn to Joseon ceramics on the part of Tomimoto and others. Brothers Asakawa Noritaka and Takumi, driving forces in the twentieth-century Japanese connoisseurship of Joseon ceramics, stimulated Tomimoto’s interest, visiting him in Ando-mura the same year Tomimoto made the aforementioned first white porcelain jar, in 1919.62 The brothers were working in colonial Korea, Noritaka as an elementary school teacher and Takumi as a forestry engineer. Gradually their interest in Joseon ceramics prompted them to travel to hundreds of kiln sites to document this history. Their attraction to Korean ceramics was aesthetic and romanticized, not scientific, as reflected in Noritaka’s prolix poem “Tsubo” (jar), published in the 1922 Shirakaba issue on Korean ceramics. Perhaps channeling Yeats’s celebrated “Ode to a Grecian Urn,” Asakawa Noritaka wrote that the beauty of the tsubo “enters the eyes as music,” and that “for those with impoverished hearts, ceramics become friends.”63 More practically, one of the reasons cited for the Asakawa brothers’ zealous acquisition of Joseon ceramics was that they were so cheap and plentiful.64 Broadly speaking, the newly found access forged by Japan’s annexation of the peninsula in 1910 kindled a passion for Koreana shared by Tomimoto and his contemporaries.65 Imbedded in the aestheticization of Joseon porcelain was a host of colonialist ideologies most directly expressed by Yanagi Sōetsu. As Kim Brandt and Yuko Kikuchi have established, Yanagi’s descriptions expose problematic colonialist assessments of the Korean people as inferior.66 Yanagi used the phrase “beauty of sadness” (hiai no bi) to describe Korean craft.67

160  Meghen Jones Comparing a white Joseon dynasty porcelain jar to its Chinese counterparts, he wrote that the Korean jar resembled a “sad figure (sabishii sugata) … different from the strength and pride of Chinese ceramics.”68 Of more direct relevance to our corporeal reading of the white porcelain jar idiom is the manner in which Yanagi, like others cited earlier, compared a white porcelain jar made in Joseon dynasty Korea to a woman’s body: “This jar reminds me of a human body. The beautiful skin is just like a warm human body and I cannot help touching it … It is such white skin … It is a hidden submissive colour, showing woman’s modesty.”69 Asakawa Noritaka, in his aforementioned poem “Tsubo,” likened a Korean water vessel to “the swelling breast of a girl / this form was born in order to provide love.”70 Later in the poem Asakawa went so far as to describe a Korean woman as a “walking Yi [Joseon] dynasty jar.”71 As Yuko Kikuchi has argued, these types of sentiments reflect a “male gaze … projected by the Japanese colonizer on a colonized Korean woman whereby the woman is an unreal, static idealized image as represented by a Japanese male.”72 In Tomimoto’s published writing, he expressed a concern about the negative effects of modernization in Korea. His essay “Keijō zakki” (Miscellaneous notes on Keijō), the second published essay he wrote on Korea, appeared in his 1923 book Yōhen zakki (Miscellaneous kiln-side notes).73 In it, diary entries from his October 1922 visit reveal his sentimentality towards Korea as a nostalgic place similar to Yamato, his birthplace. He begins the essay by noting the beauty of Korean stone bridges and despairs that “in two or three years’ time, they will be turned into dreadful concrete.” He ponders what would happen if the “beautiful fan-shaped stones of the western gate of Hōryūji were replaced by concrete.”74 In succeeding diary entries he noted more instances of resonance with his hometown, Ando-mura, describing, for example, the sound of a sparrow that reminded him of one line of a farmers’ (hyakushō) song of Yamato.75 In another entry, dated October 7, he compared the loss of valuable old architectural structures in Korea to a similar instance in Japan. The spectacle of the unnaturally (jin’iteki) rapid destruction of archi­ tecture, bridges, and so on is just like the time [the American art historian and curator Ernest] Fenollosa came to Yamato. Beautiful old craft objects (kōgeihin) with tradition are rapidly disappearing and d ­ ying one after another.76 Tomimoto’s wish for the preservation of Korean cultural structures aligns closely with that of Yanagi in terms of the museum of Korean craft project. However, while Tomimoto called attention to the rapid modernization of Korea, he did not see himself, like Fenollosa or Yanagi, charged with the task of documentation and preservation. Rather, he appreciated Korea as a prelapsarian source of Japanese culture that had been lost in the processes of modernization. Positioning Korea as a less technologically advanced place than Japan is in keeping with colonialist assessments by Yanagi and others. Kida Takuya

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  161 has argued that not only Yanagi—as Kikuchi and Brandt have stated—but also Tomimoto adopted an “Orientalist attitude” towards Korea in which the “colonizer” sees the “colonized” as exotic and inferior.77 But Tomimoto and Yanagi’s motivations were complex. As Tomimoto claimed, Yanagi was motivated to write so much about Korean ceramics because so many others had proclaimed they were degenerate (daraku).78 In many respects, Tomimoto’s stance towards Korea paralleled that of modern artists throughout the world seeking unadulterated aesthetic inspiration from so-called primitive cultures. Tomimoto’s series of white porcelain jars comprises an important segment of modern Japanese ceramics discourse. Following Tomimoto’s dialectic on ceramic composition and surface, they are widely lauded for their modernist approach to highlighting form as a primary focus of expression. More broadly, they represent artists’ molding of ceramics in dialogue with the discourses of other artistic mediums, all under the inescapable umbrella of modern imperialism. Like other artists of his time, Tomimoto searched for inspiration in a myriad of sources both in and outside of what was a shifting set of boundaries for the nation. Through direct expression of artistic praxis, he sought to express truth in these jars, and not to limit his vision of the ceramic vessel as strictly utilitarian. He expanded the discourse of the ceramic vessel as analogous to the human body by looking to two seemingly disparate sources—modernist French sculpture and Joseon dynasty porcelain. In that process, he made malleable the reference to the nude body by suggesting it was both a universal woman and a Korean woman. Tomimoto’s porcelain falls within the wider, and in some respects transnational, discourse of modernism not only for ceramics but also for art, more generally. The idiom of the white porcelain vessel thus reveals the extent to which ceramics by artists in early to mid-twentieth-century Japan could appear anachronistic, yet upon closer inspection embody complex engagements with modernism on local, regional, and global levels.

Notes 1 Portions of this chapter appear in my dissertation “Tomimoto Kenkichi and the Discourse of Modern Japanese Ceramics,” Boston University, 2014. I wish to thank Alicia Volk, Erin Schoneveld, and Seung Yeon Sang for comments and suggestions on this chapter. 2 According to Minami Yaeko, Tomimoto Kenkichi wrote a postcard to a­ rtist Minami Kunzō dated April 1910, stating that he stopped by Paris and met ­Fujikawa en route to London from India. Correspondence with the author, ­November, 2018. 3 Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire, 56–83. 4 Uchiyama, Seitan 120 nen Tomimoto Kenkichi ten, 48. 5 One important difference between the porcelain works made in Tokyo and those made later in Kyoto was that the latter were fired at a communal kiln that reached a lower temperature than his Tokyo kiln. See Tomimoto’s caption to fig. 13, Jisen Tomimoto Kenkichi sakuhinshū.

162  Meghen Jones 6 Other hakuji jars by Tomimoto bear faceted sides resembling the surfaces of many Joseon vessels, such as a faceted, lidded jar that was exhibited at the seventh Kokuga Sōsaku Kyōkai Tenrankai (Kokuten) exhibition in May 1932. 7 Nihon Kokugo Daijiten Henshū Iinkai, Nihon kokugo daijiten. 8 One such example is in the collection of the Crafts Gallery, National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. It is also important to note that some observers referred to some of Tomimoto’s vessels of this era as chagu, tea utensils. M, “Tomimoto Kenkichi shi no sakuhin o miru.” 9 Tomimoto, “Bi o nen to suru tōki.” 10 Kaneko, Gendai tōgei no zōkei shiso, 198. 11 Tomimoto, “Hakuji no tsubo,” in Seitō yoroku (1940), repr. in Tsujimoto, Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū, 354.　 12 See, for example, Adolf Loos, “Ornament and Crime,” in Conrads, Programs and Manifestoes, 19–24. 13 Tomimoto, “Hakuji no tsubo,” in Seitō yoroku (1940), repr. in Tsujimoto, Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū , 354. 14 Nakata, “Teiten zakkan,” 114. 15 Tomimoto, “Watashi no rirekisho.” 16 The man generally acknowledged as the father of the sōsaku hanga movement, Onchi Kōshirō (1891–1955), identified his “stimulants” as Minami Kunzō and Tomimoto. “Kako sōsaku” [Investigation of the past], Ecchingu 86 (Japan Etching Institute, Dec. 1939), repr. in Nishiyama, “One Aspect of Creative Prints: Tomimoto Kenkichi and His Influence,” 20. 17 See Volk, “Yorozu Tetsugorō and Taishō Period Creative Prints.” 18 See, for example, Tomimoto, “Tōki kōteizu,” 1–12. 19 In 1920, Tomimoto’s wife Kazue wrote, “These days, a master thrower is coming from Kyoto, and work has begun again. From early morning to night Tomimoto is wholeheartedly making ceramics with that craftsman and one other worker, while I am with our two small children singing and playing a lot.” Tomimoto Kazue, “Watashitachi no seikatsu,” 60. 20 De Waal, Bernard Leach, 73. 21 Tomimoto, “Tōwaza kansō” [Thoughts about ceramics techniques], in Tōki zuihitsushū, 4. 22 Crouch, Modernism, 30. 23 Yorozu Tetsugorō, “Nikakai dōjin no e o hyōsu,” Kindai shichō 2, no. 11 (1916): 39, in Volk, In Pursuit of Universalism, 128. 24 Watanabe, “Kōgei jihō,” 86. 25 “Teiten daiyon hyō,” Teikoku kōgei 10, no. 3 (March 1936): 82. 26 Nakata, “Teiten zakkan,” 114. 27 “Introduction by Tadasi [sic] Naitō,” Tomimoto Kenkichi sakutō gojūnen kinenten. 28 Tomimoto, “Tōwaza kansō,” in Tōki zuihitsushū, 3. 29 Tomimoto, “Hakuji no tsubo,” in Tsujimoto, 354. 30 Tomimoto, “Tōwaza kansō,” in Tōki zuihitsushū, 3. 31 Kondō, “Rokuro to watashi,” 51. 32 The character “ken” 憲 was from the second character of Chikuden’s given name, Kōken 孝憲, and the character “kichi” 吉 was from Tomimoto’s father’s name as well as the second character of Chikuden’s childhood name Isokichi. Gaucherie is a descriptor used by Maurice Denis in “Aristide Maillol,” 247. Yamamoto, “‘Goshurii’ to ‘setsu,’” 50–52. 33 Denis, “Aristide Maillol,” 241, 247. 34 Yamamoto, “‘Goshurii’ to ‘setsu,’” 50. 35 Trans. Tanaka Kisaku, 7, no. 3 (1921): 2–15. 36 April 11–20. Kyoto Bunka Hakubutsukan, ed., Shirakaba-ha no aishita bijutsu, 220. In October 1910, the journal Shirakaba devoted an entire issue to a “Rodin 70th Birthday Anniversary Selection.”

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  163 37 Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 22. 38 The number of works he showed was 100 according to Kokugakai kaimu īnkai, Kokugakai 80 nen no kiseki: 80 kai kokuten kinenshi: kaiga, hanga, chōkoku, kōgei, shashin (Tokyo: Kokugakai, 2006), 11. But an early source states he had shown over 200 pieces total, Tateishi Tetsuomi, ed., Kokugakai: Hito to sakuhin (Tokyo: Bijutsu shuppan dezain sentā, 1967), 91. After Tokyo, the exhibition traveled to Kyoto Okazaki Park May 21–30 and Osaka Asahi Kaikan June 3–13. 39 Kokugakai kaimu īnkai, Kokugakai 80 nen no kiseki: 80 kai kokuten kinenshi: kaiga, hanga, chōkoku, kōgei, shashin, 11. 40 Mafune Yutaka, Umehara Ryūzaburō. Tokyo: Ishihara Kyūryūdō, 1944, 402, quoted in Winther-Tamaki, Maximum Embodiment: Yōga, the Western Painting of Japan, 1912–1955, 16. 41 Mallet, “The ‘Gentleman Potters,’” 258. A soft ground etching of A Savage dated to 1915 is in the collection of the Crafts Study Center. 42 Yanagi, “Kakumei no gaka,” in Schoneveld, Shirakaba and Japanese Modernism, 216. 43 Nojima’s photographic publishing projects in this era also extended to Yanagi Sōetsu: for him, he photographed images for the September 1922 article “Chōsen tōjiki tokushitsu” [The characteristics of Korean ceramics] and that same year he produced photographs for Yanagi’s book Tōjiki no bi. 44 Charrier, “Nojima Yasuzō’s Primitivist Eye,” 50. 45 The complicated political implications of these aesthetics are explored at length throughout Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory. 46 Leach gave the jar to ceramist Lucie Rie (1902–95), who owned it for fifty years. 47 In the Joseon dynasty they were generally called baekja daeho (large white jars). 48 Choi, “Joseon Dynasty Ceramics,” 33–34. 49 See Pitelka, Handmade Culture: Raku Potters, Patrons, and Tea Practitioners in ­Japan, 154–55. Also see Seung Yeon Sang, “Okuda Seiichi and the New Language of Ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan,” chapter 7 in this volume. 50 Brandt, “Objects of Desire: Japanese Collectors and Colonial Korea,” 715–16. This is also discussed at length in Brandt’s book Kingdom of Beauty: Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan. 51 Asakawa, “Richō tōki no kachi oyobi hensen ni tsuite,” 1. 52 Ibid. 53 “Takushoku hakurankai no ichinichi,” in Tsujimoto, ed., Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū, 472. This encounter has been credited with also influencing Yanagi Sōetsu’s interest in Korea. See Brandt, “Objects of Desire,” 715. 54 Tomimoto, “Takushoku hakurankai no ichinichi,” repr. in Tsujimoto, Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū, 472. 55 Chōsen minzoku bijutsukan tenrankai, May 7–15, 1921, held at the gallery Ryuitsu-so, Kanda. 56 Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 129. 57 Tomimoto, “Seitō zatsuwa.” 58 The exhibition took place starting October 5. Moriya, “Tomimoto Kenkichi to Chosen tōji,” 3. Tomimoto’s participation in its organization and the number of objects is also described by Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei ­T heory, 129. This exhibition was the catalyst for Yanagi’s establishment of a ­Korean folk craft museum there. 59 The exhibition was held at the Chōsen Kizoku Kaikan. Tomimoto, “Keijō zakki,” in Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū, 282. 60 Ibid., 283. 61 See, for example, the Mingeikan collection’s late fifteenth- to early sixteenth-­ century works, in National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, Ekkyō suru nihonjin, Fig. III-30.

164  Meghen Jones 62 Letter from Tomimoto to Bernard Leach, dated May 2. Archival Research Center, Kyoto City University of Arts. 63 Asakawa, “Richō tōki,” 54–55. See Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty for translations of other passages of this poem. 64 Brandt, “Objects of Desire: Japanese Collectors and Colonial Korea,” 719. 65 See Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty and “Objects of Desire.” For an overview of Koreana across various forms of culture, see Atkins, Primitive Selves: Koreana in the Japanese Colonial Gaze, 1910–1945. 66 Brandt, Kingdom of Beauty and “Objects of Desire”; Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory. 67 See Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 131–7. 68 Yanagi, Chōsen to sono geijutsu 6:161, repr. in Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 135–6. 69 Yanagi 1981, “Kare no Chōsen yuki [His visit to Korea],” 6: 69–70. Repr. in ­K ikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 134. 70 Asakawa, “Tsubo,” Shirakaba (September 1922): 57. 71 Brandt identifies these two aspects of the poem in “The Folk-craft Movement in Early Showa Japan,” 736. 72 Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, 135. 73 Tomimoto, Yōhen zakki. Keijō was the name for Seoul during the Japanese occupation period. 74 Tomimoto, “Keijō zakki,” repr. in Tsujimoto, ed., Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū, 278–79. D ­ iary entry from October 2. 75 Ibid., 281–82. 76 Ibid., 285. Here, Tomimoto is likely referring to the visits to Hōryūji and other sites of cultural importance in Nara Prefecture by art historian Ernest Fenollosa (1853–1908), art historian Okakura Kakuzō, sculptor Kanō Tessai, and others under the auspices of the National Treasures Investigation Bureau in the 1880s. Fenollosa played an important role in the history of art preservation in Japan due to his curatorial roles at the Imperial Museum in Tokyo and the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. See Tseng, Imperial Museums, 141–51. 77 Kida, “Asia as Dreamed by Craftspeople: ‘Asianist’ Craft Arts,” in National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, Ekkyō suru nihonjin, 148. 78 Tomimoto, “Richō no suiteki,” 28.

References Asakawa Noritaka. “Richō tōki no kachi oyobi hensen ni tsuite” [On the value and history of Yi dynasty ceramics]. Shirakaba (September 1922): 1–41. Aso, Noriko. “New Illusions: The Emergence of a Discourse on Traditional Japanese Arts and Crafts, 1868–1945.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1997. Atkins, E. Taylor. Primitive Selves: Koreana in the Japanese Colonial Gaze, 1910– 1945. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010. Brandt, Kim. Kingdom of Beauty: Mingei and the Politics of Folk Art in Imperial Japan. Durham: Duke University Press, 2007. ______. “Objects of Desire: Japanese Collectors and Colonial Korea.” Positions 8, no. 3 (2000): 715–16. ______. “The Folk-craft Movement in Early Showa Japan.” PhD diss., ­Columbia University, 1996. Charrier, Philip. “Nojima Yasuzō’s Primitivist Eye: ‘Nude’ and ‘Natural’ in Early Japanese Art Photography.” Japanese Studies 26, no. 1 (May 2006): 46–78.

The nude, the empire, the porcelain vessel  165 Choi, Kun. “Joseon Dynasty Ceramics.” In Choi, Byoung-Ho, ed. Hidden Treasures of Joseon Dynasty. Korea: World Ceramic Exposition Foundation, 2002, 23–35. Conrads, Ulrich. Programs and Manifestoes on 20th Century Architecture. Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 1975. Crouch, Christopher. Modernism in Art, Design and Architecture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1999. De Waal, Edmund. Bernard Leach. London: Tate Gallery, 1998. Denis, Maurice. “Aristide Maillol.” L’Occident 48 (November 1905): 241–49. Hobsbawm, E.J. The Age of Empire 1875–1914. New York: Vintage Books, 1989. Idekawa Naoki. Richō tōji shinkō [Consideration of ceramics of the Yi dynasty]. Tokyo: Kizukisha bijutsu shuppan, 1982. Kaneko Kenji. Gendai tōgei no zōkei shiso [Formative thoughts on modern ceramics]. Tokyo: Abe Shuppan, 2001. Kikuchi, Yuko. Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004. Kondō Yūzō. “Rokuro to watashi” [The ceramic wheel and myself]. Bi no kuni 4, no. 32 (March 1928): 51. Kurahashi Tōjirō, ed. Tōki zuroku: Richō hakuji [Ceramics record: Korean white porcelain]. Tokyo: Kōseikai shuppanbu, 1932. Kyoto Bunka Hakubutsukan, ed. Shirakaba-ha no aishita bijutsu: ‘Shirakaba’ tanjō 100-nen [The art beloved by the Shirakaba group: the 100th anniversary of Shirakaba]. Osaka: Yomiuri Shinbun Osaka Honsha, 2009. M. “Tomimoto Kenkichi shi no sakuhin o miru” [Looking at Tomimoto Kenkichi’s works]. Geppō 4, no. 5 (March 1923): 12–13. ______. “Shinnen no hana” [New year’s flowers]. Fujin no tomo 31, no.1 (January 1937): np. Mallet, J.V.G. “The ‘Gentleman Potters’ Part 1: Bernard and Janet Leach.” English Ceramic Circle Transactions 18, no. 2 (2003): 253–63. Moriya Miho, “Tomimoto Kenkichi to Chosen tōji” [Tomimoto Kenkichi and ­Korean ceramics]. Azami 8 (August 1, 2002): 3. Naito Tadasi [sic], ed., Tomimoto Kenkichi moyō senshū [A collection of designs by Tomimoto Kenkichi for decorating pottery selected by himself]. Translated by S. Matsumoto. Tokyo: Chūō kōron bijtusu shuppan, 1957. Nakata Mitsuo, “Teiten zakkan (daiyonbu)” [Impressions of the Teiten (fourth division)]. Teikoku kōgei 10, no. 4 (April 1936): 113–14. National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. Ekkyō suru nihonjin: kōgeika ga yume mita nihonjin / Japanese Crossing Borders: Asia as Dreamed by Craftspeople, 1910s–1945. Tokyo: National Museum of Modern Art, 2012. Nihon Kokugo Daijiten Henshū Iinkai. Nihon kokugo daijiten [Dictionary of the Japanese language]. Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 2002. Nishiyama, Junko. “One Aspect of Creative Prints: Tomimoto Kenkichi and his Influence.” In Chiaki Ajioka, ed., Hanga: Japanese Creative Prints, 15–21. Sydney: Art Gallery of New South Wales, 2000. Pitelka, Morgan. Handmade Culture: Raku Potters, Patrons, and Tea Practitioners in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2005. “Teiten daiyon hyō” [Commentary on the Teiten fourth division], Teikoku kōgei 10, no. 3 (March 1936): 63–82.

166  Meghen Jones Tomimoto Kenkichi sakutō gojūnen kinenten / The Exposition in Commemoration of the Fiftyith [sic] Anniversary of Kenkichi Tomimoto’s. Nihonbashi, Tokyo: Takashimaya, May 23–28, 1961. Tomimoto Kazue. “Watashitachi no seikatsu” [Our life]. Josei nihonjin 1, no. 2 (­October 1920): 60. Tomimoto Kenkichi. “Bi o nen to suru tōki” [Ceramics concerned with beauty]. Josei nihonjin 1, no. 2 (Oct. 1920): 40–50. ———. Jisen Tomimoto Kenkichi sakuhinshū [A self-selection of works by Tomimoto Kenkichi]. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 1962. ———. “Richō no suiteki” [Korean water droppers]. Shirakaba 13, no. 9 (September 1922): 28. ———. “Seitō zatsuwa” [Talk of pottery making]. Bijutsu geppō 2, no. 5 (January 23, 1921): 73–74. ———. “Tōki kōteizu” [Illustrations of ceramics processes]. Kōgei 3 (March 1931): 1–12. ———. Tōki zuihitsushū [Ceramics: A collection of essays]. Osaka: Asahi Shinbunsha, 1948. ———. “Tomimoto Kenkichi sakutō yonjūgōnen” [45 years of Tomimoto Kenkichi’s ceramic works]. Sansai 71 (January 1956): 34–35. ———. “Watashi no rirekisho” [My personal history]. Nihon keizai shinbun. Evening edition, February 18, 1962. ———. Yōhen zakki [Miscellaneous kiln-side notes]. Tokyo: Fukunaga Shigekatsu, 1923; repr. Tokyo: Bunka seikatsu kenkyukai, 1975. Tseng, Alice. The Imperial Museums of Meiji Japan: Architecture and the Art of the Nation. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2008. Tsujimoto Isamu, ed. Tomimoto Kenkichi chosakushū [Anthology of writings by ­Tomimoto Kenkichi]. Tokyo: Satsuki Shobō, 1981. Uchiyama Takeo, ed. Seitan 120 nen Tomimoto Kenkichi ten [Tomimoto Kenkichi: A Retrospective]. Kyoto: National Museum of Modern Art, 2006. Volk, Alicia. In Pursuit of Universalism: Yorozu Tetsugorō and Japanese Modern Art. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010. ———. “Yorozu Tetsugorō and Taishō-Period Creative Prints: When the Japanese Print Became Avant-Garde.” Impressions 26 (2004): 45–65. Watanabe Soshū. “Kōgei jihō” [Craft report]. Chūō bijutsu 32 (March 1936): 84–88. Winther-Tamaki, Bert. Maximum Embodiment: Yōga, the Western Painting of Japan, 1912–1955. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2012. Yamamoto Shigeo. “‘Goshurii’ to ‘setsu’” [‘Gaucherie’ and ‘unskillfulness’]. Kikan ginka 111 (Fall 1997): 50–52. Yanagi Sōetsu. “Kakumei no gaka” [The revolutionary artist]. Shirakaba 3, no. 1 (1912): 1–31, translated in Erin Schoneveld, Shirakaba and Japanese Modernism: Art Magazine, Artistic Collectives, and the Early Avant-garde, 208–19. Leiden: Brill, 2019.

Part IV

9 Veiled references The role of glaze in Japanese avant-garde ceramics Louise Allison Cort

One of the iconic Japanese ceramic works of the twentieth century is the 1954 sculpture by Yagi Kazuo (1918–79) known as Mr. Samsa’s Walk (Zamuza-­shi no sampo) (fig. 9.1). This work was presented in Kyoto at the Sōdeisha group show in September, 1954, and then in December in Yagi’s solo exhibition in Tokyo at the Formes Gallery.1 The work is known for its unprecedented concept and method of construction, whereby Yagi used the potter’s wheel not in its established role to raise the form but as a tool to make components. He shaped the body as a hollow ring, then turned and mounted it on its side, and threw many smaller tubes, which he sliced and reassembled, without regard for—or perhaps more accurately, with intentional disregard for— their original orientation on the wheel. Mr. Samsa’s Walk is also identified with the introduction to Japanese art vocabulary of the French term “objet”

Figure 9.1  Yagi Kazuo, Mr. Samsa’s Walk (Zamuza-shi no sampo), 1954.  Stoneware with jōkon glaze, 27.5  x 27.0  x 14.0  cm. Private collection.

170  Louise Allison Cort (with its echo of Surrealist objet trouvé) to designate a new category of clay work in postwar Japan—one-of-a-kind ceramic sculptures without obvious function.2 Rarely discussed, however, is the glaze on this singular work. The wood-ash-based glaze, known to Kyoto potters as jōkon-yū, congeals to dark brown beads or rivulets in some places, but over most of the clay surface it is no more than a thin, pale-brown skin. Its mottled translucency goes almost unnoticed as the viewer focuses through it onto the form of the undulating ring with its wriggling attachments and gaping perforations. Yet Yagi’s sudden bold switch from a container whose shape and orientation were determined on the wheel to this assembled and reoriented sculpture is no more significant than the abrupt change in his choice of glaze. Indeed, the transformation of forming and glazing went hand in hand. In Mr. Samsa’s Walk and the other works in the series he made for the 1954 exhibitions, Yagi departed from the glaze format he had relied upon for much of his work for nearly a decade, a classic East Asian combination of white slip painted with black figural decoration beneath a clear, colorless glaze. Evidence suggests that for his 1954 series, which represented a decisive shift from vessel form to objet, Yagi wanted an unobtrusive glaze that almost disappeared from the viewer’s awareness, allowing the sculpted form to show through. Several of the other works in the series were completely unglazed. Those works are less well known, however, and it seems that the combination of form and minimal glaze in Mr. Samsa’s Walk made it the most memorable to his audiences at the time and thereafter. This chapter will take a closer look at the choices about glazes made by Yagi and other founding members of the Kyoto-based postwar avantgarde ceramic group Sōdeisha (“Crawling Through Mud Association”)—­ Nakajima Kiyoshi (1907–86), Yamada Hikaru (1924–2001), and Suzuki Osamu (1926–2001). In search of a structure to provide both financial and emotional support for showing their work in rented spaces outside the strictures of government-sponsored exhibitions, these four young men allied themselves at first in a group called Seinen Sakutōka Shūdan (Young ­Pottery-makers’ Collective), which formed in the autumn of 1946 and produced three group exhibitions in 1947 and 1948 before disbanding. Yagi, Yamada, and Suzuki reunited later in 1948 as Sōdeisha, while Nakajima rejoined them in 1951. The Seinen Sakutōka Shūdan members declared in their foundation statement of February 1947 that they aspired to “expand [their] vision beyond the limited intentions formerly espoused by people working as potters,” while the Sōdeisha manifesto, drawing on Surrealist language for a bolder articulation of their goals, likened its members to “birds of dawn taking flight out of the forest of falsehood.”3 Nonetheless, the young artists’ work through the mid-1950s reveals a deep attachment to classic glaze modes, albeit not Japanese per se but historical Chinese or Korean formats long known in Japan and deeply incorporated into the Japanese ceramic repertory.4 Notably, they favored the use of white

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  171 slip as found in Song dynasty (960–1279) Cizhou ware of northern China or Joseon period (1392–1910) buncheong ware of Korea. The opaque white veil over the clay body provided a blank sheet on which to draw, whether by incising with a pointed tool, inlaying with black pigment, or stroking with a pigment-loaded brush. Their earliest forms conveying these modes of decoration were conventional vessels; their “flight” into a new ceramic mode became visible chiefly in the imagery of the decoration. Mr. Samsa’s Walk proved to be a watershed in the use of glaze by the Sōdeisha members, as their output bifurcated into vessel forms (kibutsu) and sculptural “obuje-yaki” or “non-vessels” (hikibutsu).5 Yagi, Yamada, and ­Suzuki all invented new surfaces specifically for their sculptural repertory— notably Yagi’s unglazed surfaces and, later, his burnished and blackened pottery (kokutō). Yet it is important to note that they never abandoned white slip in their later vessel work, and they never barred its use from sculptural pieces. Indeed, on their sculptural works, white slip offered an alternative surface to conventional glaze, with the power to reveal and enhance the form.

Music, literature, and museums In searching for evidence for the motivations and inspirations behind the early work and the later transformations, I have turned to Yagi Kazuo’s writings to let his voice speak. Three books of Yagi’s essays have been published, although two are posthumous, and the essays anthologized in them date mainly to the 1960s and 1970s.6 Even so, they contain evocative and revealing remembrances of Yagi’s earlier self and his development as a ceramic artist. European literature, music, and art were key inspirations. Yagi recalled himself as a youth in the 1930s, when he was a student in the sculpture department at the Kyoto City School of Art and Craft (Kyoto Shiritsu Bijutsu Kōgei Gakkō): “I didn’t show much talent for art, but I was deeply moved by the world of literature and music; I was captivated and would buy books or go to listen to music.”7 The music was heard not in live concerts but at a classical music coffee shop on the central shopping street, Kawaramachi, where he would listen intently to Beethoven’s symphonies, having determined that Mozart was of no interest.8 We know from the title of Mr. Samsa’s Walk that Yagi had read Kafka.9 His knowledge of European literature came through Japanese translations; nonetheless, it affected him powerfully as he conceived of his work with clay. I was strongly interested in ceramics not as a means for seeing a kind of beauty but in terms of what I wanted to express (arawashitai). Instead of seeing, or replicating, the dignity of Chinese or Korean ceramics, I wanted to make concrete through pottery some atmosphere of the literary world—shall we call it romantic?10

172  Louise Allison Cort It is important to remember that Yagi never traveled to Europe or North America, much less to Korea or China (except for a brief deployment to Guangzhou as a soldier).11 Until international loan exhibitions became more frequent in postwar Japan, Yagi and his friends relied for images of European artists’ work on precious copies of foreign art journals circulated by a book lender and on the stock of art books in bookstores such as Maruzen.12 Yagi wrote admiringly of self-taught ceramic artist Ishiguro Munemaro (1893–1968) and art historian Koyama Fujio (1900–76, then an aspiring potter), who in the 1930s struggled at the fringes of the Kyoto ceramics world, although they would go on to win acclaim. “Sometimes they would go just as they were in their clay-covered work clothes to Maruzen on Sanjō, where the two of them would debate that famous catalogue of ceramics by Hobson.”13 Yagi was probably describing his own habits as well. Fortunately, book stores were tolerant of impecunious customers who stood and read at length without buying. Young Yagi also frequented the Imperial Museum in Kyoto (after 1952 known as the Kyoto National Museum) to encounter historical ceramics. He would pass straight through the “dim displays” of Buddhist sculpture, painting, and calligraphy in order to see Korean vessels in the ceramics gallery.14 Once he traveled to Osaka to see a special showing in the municipal museum of Joseon period flat-sided flasks, a favorite form of Japanese collectors. “I stared tirelessly at those bottles that I knew from photographs.”15 At the time, Chinese Cizhou ware with its thick white slip and painted or deeply carved décor, not dissimilar from buncheong ware, was still (mis) identified by Japanese connoisseurs as “decorated Goryeo (e-gōrai)” (i.e., Korean) ware, using a category developed within tea taste of the seventeenth century. In contrast to the “folk” category with its ambiguous nationality, orthodox “Chinese” ceramics were associated with celadon and other classic glazes connected to elite patronage. At the time the Sōdeisha group formed, Yagi recalled, the notion of a personal ceramic style independent of historical models had not yet taken hold, and each of the young members identified with a certain prototype: “Yamada Hikaru was Chinese style, I was Korean,” while Suzuki Osamu was “Kyoto ware.”16 By “Korean” Yagi referred inclusively to the white-slipped wares of both Korea and China, which had attracted him from his student days. By that time [in the 1930s] the activities in the crafts division of the Teiten exhibition were flourishing, and one could see many works by so-called independent artists (kojin sakka). But it was not those brand new works that shook me to the core, but rather old Chinese or Korean ceramics, especially stoneware (tsuchimono) from popular kilns, overflowing with imagery … Our group was fiercely inclined toward ancient work as the result of such experiences.17 Yagi’s essays make clear that, within the conservative and hierarchical Kyoto ceramics world, instead of the heads of established multi-generational

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  173 workshops who dominated the Gojōzaka neighborhood, he preferred the newcomers—self-declared studio artists such as Ishiguro, Kawai Kanjirō (1890–1966), and Yamada Tetsu, father of his friend Yamada Hikaru. (His own father, Issō [1894–1973], was also such an outsider, although overly similar temperaments perpetuated conflicts between father and son.18) It was probably not coincidental that Ishiguro, whom Yagi admired so deeply, was a master of Cizhou ware formats using slip and black pigment.

Glaze and imagery Yagi’s early attraction to the white slip of buncheong and Cizhou wares reflected his resistance to his father’s meticulous work in Chinese Ming (1368– 1644) and Qing (1644–1912) modes of monochrome glaze.19 At the same time, this mode seems to have offered him a means of decoration that he felt was within his capacity. When I was young, for a while I was devoted to Korean-style techniques. It started with the technique of using white clay to inlay designs on an iron-gray body. With my clumsiness, I did not have confidence in a technique that required painting and thus called for a unity of idea and action. I was stymied by anticipation of the traces of the actions and their failure to match the thought, and so I hesitated to take up a brush. Inlay was good for that reason. This work is not done in one gesture. The design is roughed out until it agrees with the idea. That’s that. For the technique of inlay, it’s sufficient to destroy the under-drawing gradually while cutting down to the clay body and revealing a different color. There is no possibility of a mistaken stroke. If there is a mistake, it is not in the process but at the point when the under-drawing is ­decided—in other words, in the idea itself.20 Yagi also discovered in the inlay technique a means of acting on his strong affinity to European art, within the limitations of his skill. In the 1930s he had admired the work of Max Ernst (1871–1976), and after the war he discovered Paul Klee (1879–1940). I liked Paul Klee’s “thinking line.” It combined aspects of determination and submissiveness, harmony and resistance, straightness and indentation, and I wanted to paint it on my jars. But it was all I could do to render a single stroke.21 But with inlay Yagi found a solution for rendering “the movement of that pure and autonomous line … On jars that I barely managed to shape with my shaky, unaccomplished throwing, I determined to try carving linear designs.”22 Yagi borrowed a literary metaphor to describe his youthful artistic efforts as developing an “alphabet” of techniques and qualities. Staring at the ­Korean ceramics in the museum cases,

174  Louise Allison Cort I picked out details, such as the casual irregularity of the clay form, the unexpected stiffness in the traces of fingers, the naïve confidence of the trimming, and tucked them away in the drawer of my heart. But it took quite a bit of experience in looking before I was able to put into ‘words’ what I saw. I first assembled them as an alphabet.23 As his confidence developed, Yagi described moving away from the model of Korean-style inlay in similar terms: “I was beginning to use my own alphabet or language, and I almost completely ceased to use what I had learned from Korea.”24 After the war, as Yagi addressed the intellectual and aesthetic issues that would lead to the creation of Mr. Samsa’s Walk, he would liken the process once again to creating his own “alphabet,” no longer simply of surface details but fundamentally of form: The reality of making ceramics is that, no matter how much one might want to make something new, everything made on the potter’s wheel ends up as a symmetrical cylinder. Then one thinks about adding this kind of decoration to this sort of shape, or further, if I add this kind of decoration, it will harmonize with the form, or might create balance  … There are endless possibilities, but one can never escape from the nervous symmetry born of the wheel. If one wants to make something new, the only options are to distort or alter that form. But if one is working on the theme of everyday utensils, then the utensil has its own requirements, and one can never be free of them … If one intends to make something faithful to one’s own spirit alone, then it’s necessary to depart from making vessels … The vocabulary of the past won’t work in the present day. We cannot use words from the [eighth-century poetry compilation] Manyōshū to express the spiritual condition or the environment of people today. The present has no choice but to use the language of the present. We began making what we called objet with the aim of creating by ourselves our own alphabet of form (zōkei). That seemed to offer the possibility of a free development.25

Sunflowers Yagi used the Cizhou technique of incising through slip for his jar with sunflower design submitted to the first exhibition of the Seinen Sakutōka Shūdan, in 1947, but his contemporary interests inflected it (fig. 9.2). He wrote of finding an art magazine reproduction of a Picasso painting and thinking, “[a]h, the peony designs on old Chinese ceramics are really Cubist too!”26 Just a year later, the full impact of this realization became apparent in his rendering of sunflowers on the vase called Corona (also Annular Eclipse), for which he won the Mayor’s Prize at the fourth annual Kyoto Exhibition (Kyōten) (fig. 9.3).

Figure 9.2  Yagi Kazuo, Jar with sgraffito design of sunflowers (Kakiotoshi himawari-zu tsubo), 1947. Stoneware with white slip and clear and ­copper-green glazes, 31.2  x 21.2  cm. Private collection.

Figure 9.3  Yagi Kazuo, Corona (Kinkanshoku), 1948. Stoneware with white slip, black pigment inlay, and clear glaze, 48.5  x 17.0  cm. Kyoto Municipal Museum of Modern Art.

176  Louise Allison Cort Although the 1947 vase replaced classic Chinese peonies with sunflowers, the vessel’s swelling proportion and the execution of the sgraffito décor relate recognizably to Chinese models, and the naturalistic floral imagery is warmed by the reddish clay revealed by the carving and by touches of copper-green glaze on the foliage. The slender, elongated form of the 1948 vase, by contrast, stretches to accommodate the severely geometric image of round flower heads seemingly pierced by rigid stalks. Yagi told two stories about this work, which marked a turning point in his sense of confidence as a potter in Kyoto. He had submitted a related piece earlier the same year to the first exhibition of the Shinshōkai juried by founder Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963). Tomimoto quizzed him: “The painting is all right, but why did you make this shape?” Yagi answered cockily: “I wanted to draw this design. The shape comes from China. The painting uses Cubist technique.” Tomimoto made a disapproving face: “A stock shape…” He allowed Yagi to show the piece, although this conversation caused a permanent coolness between the two.27 Yet Yagi wrote of his elation around that same time, when a piece of his was admitted to the annual Nitten exhibition for the first time. “I felt that I’d finally taken the first step up the ladder of success, and I was really happy. My feeling was that with this success I could walk up and down Gojōzaka with the air of an artist (sakka). Until then, indeed, when going along Gojōzaka I had not walked in the middle of the road but stayed to the side.”28 The other story mocked his puffed-up feelings of becoming an “up-andcoming artist.” Despite the Mayor’s Prize, he was struggling with the question of what to make that would sell. A prosperous wholesaler from the Kyoto textile world—a representative customer for fine Kyoto ceramics— advised him: “It would be good to paint your solar eclipse design on sake cups.” Yagi pondered this suggestion. I had no reason to feel any irony in his remark. The design would actually fit well on a sake cup, and would even be a bit stylish and exotic (haikara). But executing this project in quantity posed problems of technique, and overcoming them would require a good deal of energy. Instead, I continued as before my uneasy days, going ahead with the work that I was able to do—the work that seemed faithful to my spirit.29 The other Sōdeisha members pursued similar paths in the late 1940s and early 1950s, prior to the decisive moment of Mr. Samsa’s Walk. They experimented with various approaches to modernizing the use of slip and iron pigment, and their close ongoing dialogue is evident in similarities of schemes for decoration using white slip in various manners. For example, Cizhou-derived ovoid vases by Suzuki Osamu (Rondo, 1950) and Nakajima Kiyoshi (1951) both bear lively trailed-slip decoration undoubtedly

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  177 inspired by Jackson Pollock.30 Yamada Hikaru used a light touch to incise abstract linear motifs into the white slip coating on his 1952 vessel with two mouths (an experiment with form departing from function also undertaken by Yagi and Suzuki around the same time).31 In 1953 both Yamada and Nakajima made bulky vessels adorned with blocks of graphic patterning, Nakajima’s a wheel-thrown jar but Yamada’s Form hand-sculpted.32

Unglazed clay When considering Yagi’s decision on how to glaze Mr. Samsa’s Walk—how to finish the work yet render the presence of glaze almost irrelevant—it is helpful to recall that Yagi had been trained in the 1930s as a sculptor, at the Kyoto City School of Art and Craft, then at the National Kyoto Ceramic ­Research Institute. His instructor at the Institute was Sèvres-trained Numata Ichiga (1873–1954), and he became a member of ­Numata’s Japan Ceramic Sculpture Association (Nihon Tōchō Kyōkai).33 His 1939 sculpture of a wild hare made use of the natural red coloration of the coarse unglazed clay, brought out by firing in Numata’s Sèvres-style wood-fired kiln, to convey the animal’s corporeality.34 Significantly, Yagi attributed his first strong connection to the materiality of clay to the moment when, as a new conscript in 1939, he touched his lips to an army-issue aluminum food bowl instead of the glazed rim of a familiar ceramic chawan—a vessel that until then he had taken entirely for granted.35 Even as he ventured into nonfunctional sculpture, the ceramic vessel and the physical dimension of its daily use would continue to be central to Yagi’s perception of himself as a clay worker: he always described himself (not without irony) as “just a bowl maker” (chawanya). The experience of the inhuman touch of aluminum confirmed for Yagi a deep connection between glazed clay and the usable vessel. On his postwar visits to the Kyoto National Museum galleries, however, Yagi found himself gradually losing interest in Chinese and Korean glazed ceramics and opting to bypass their “ponderous expressions” for the chance to delight in the “bare faces” of unglazed Yayoi period (300 BCE – 250 CE) earthenware vessels.36 Shortly before the Samsa series, moreover, he encountered the unglazed stoneware works that the American artist Isamu Noguchi (1904–88) made in Japan in 1950 and 1952.37 Although many of Noguchi’s forms quoted freely from Japanese vessel shapes established for use in tea culture, Yagi was struck by the absence of the “cloudy dampness” of the Japanese tea aesthetic; instead he discovered, behind a modern façade, the “brightness” of ancient Japan.38 Elsewhere, in the surfaces of unglazed storage jars from the medieval Shigaraki and Iga kilns, a genre then attracting attention among Japanese dealers, collectors, and museums, he admired “the way the pattern created by the encounter of hand and clay is visible on the naked red body.”39

178  Louise Allison Cort Such encounters confirmed an association between the unglazed, unconcealed clay and sculpture. Yagi reflected on the way in which transforming clay into a fired vessel affected his relationship to it: The work on the wheel is most alive at the moment when the throwing is just completed. As the clay undergoes drying and trimming and passes through bisque firing, the transformation of its energy is huge. When reviewing my own bisque-fired works, I often wondered why they lacked the fresh moistness of [Yayoi period] earthenware. I recognized the profound difference between the kind of earthenware that is complete with low-temperature firing and the usual pottery, to which glaze is applied and hardened by high-firing.40 No doubt such observations led Yagi to leave so many of his 1954 exhibition series unglazed.

Samsa and other works from 1954 and 1955 In his insightful analysis of Mr. Samsa’s Walk, Bert Winther-Tamaki points out that its glaze connects this seemingly radical and alien ceramic form to Kyoto ceramic tradition: For although this is certainly a strange metamorphosis of traditional pottery, nonetheless it is literally surfaced with a sensibility which restores the affective affiliation to the pottery tradition: namely the organic earthy ash glaze which is one of the hallmarks of Japanese ceramic taste.41 Yet the glaze that Yagi chose to apply to the work that became Mr. Samsa’s Walk was not by Kyoto standards a particularly refined or skillful glaze. It certainly was not the kind of celadon glaze that was his father’s pride. If anything, Yagi’s choices of glazes for the series of works that he exhibited at the Formes Gallery in 1954 seemed to hit the lowest common denominator of easy, cheap coatings commonly found on restaurant bowls or kitschy figurines. The runny, uneven ash glaze on Mr. Samsa’s Walk is one such glaze. Another is the combination, on Vase, Cylindrical Tubes (Entō hanaike), a Samsa-like ring with perforations and tubular insertions propped horizontally on three legs, of thin white slip edged with gaudy turquoise glaze.42 A barely visible film of ash glaze coats another upright cylindrical form with tubes imbedded in the wall, Ring Vase (Wa no hanaike).43 Many of the works shown at the exhibition were completely unglazed, including Vase (Hanaike), a composition of variously sized rings juxtaposed and joined by firing, then propped upright on a metal stand.44 Yagi added more unglazed works to his solo exhibition the following March at Umeda Gallery in Osaka, when Mr. Samsa’s Walk appeared once again.45 Among them were Opus B (Sakuhin B), a U-shaped band of clay standing upright on two splayed legs and

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  179 bearing short tubes attached to its inner surfaces, and Direction of the Wind (Fūi), an open box-like form with tubes piercing its walls.46 Rather than a rich earth color, however, the clay of these unglazed pieces was pale and soft, as though deprived of sunlight.

After Samsa Following upon intensified appreciation of the expressiveness of clay’s fired surface, as manifest in the Mr. Samsa’s Walk series, one natural course of development for all the Sōdeisha members was the use of unglazed clay for sculptural works. Some of Suzuki Osamu’s early sculptures, such as Wild Samurai (1959), frame white-slipped and black-patterned areas with the natural surface of unglazed clay, but eventually he chose to create the appearance of unfired clay through deft application of iron slip and thin glaze (fig. 9.4).47 He made a clear distinction between his “clay figures” (deizō) in that format and his functional containers and small sculptures shaped in porcelain clay beneath an intense pale blue Chinese-style glaze, and these two trajectories served him for the rest of his career (fig. 9.5). Yagi pursued unglazed clay as a medium for much sculptural work during the 1950s, although the material presented a series of problems. In the

Figure 9.4  Suzuki Osamu, Clay Image: Cellist (Deizo: Serohiki), 1987.  Stoneware with red-brown iron slip and ash glaze, 42.3  x 31 x 19.2  cm. Purchase— funds provided by John and Marinka Bennett, Arthur M. Sackler ­Gallery, Smithsonian Institution.

180  Louise Allison Cort

Figure 9.5  Suzuki Osamu, Thunder Child (Raiko), 1985.  Porcelain with pale blue (seihakuji) glaze, 30.6 x 20.8 x 4.9 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, gift of Jane and Raphael Bernstein.

years when the young Sōdeisha artists were starting out, all the potters in Gojōzaka fired their wares in large wood-fired kilns. Kiln owners typically rented out space in their kilns in order to speed the pace of production, and some kilns operated communally; only later would electric and gas kilns become common. The Sōdeisha members could afford to rent only the least desirable uppermost shelves, a location that limited the scale of works and often failed to develop the full color potential of the unglazed clay. The effect of such works was raw and emotionally cool. Yagi’s 1959 series, including several works titled Memory of Cloud, with warm, even scorched, coloration, was exceptionally successful.48 The city began shutting down the wood-burning kilns, however, and in 1961 Yagi installed an electric kiln in his own workshop, simplifying his work processes but failing to produce the coloration achieved through wood firing.49 In order to bring warmth to the unglazed Shigaraki clay he used for sculpture, he resorted to spraying the surface with iron-rich pigment.50 Years later, Yagi replaced the electric kiln with a gas-fired one. Aah, flames after a long while! I felt like I was making real ceramics. I stirred up the high-temperature glazes that had been sleeping on the

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  181 glaze shelf for nearly twenty years, and when I applied the glazes to the bisqued wares, it felt like only yesterday that I had loaded a board of work on my shoulder and walked down Gojōzaka in a leisurely haste to the communal climbing kiln.51 Only once, in 1966, did Yagi experience the firing of his unglazed sculptural work in the roaring heart of a wood-fired kiln in Shigaraki itself. While the firing brought out the inherent coloration of unglazed stoneware clay, he later reported that he did not trust the lack of control over the process.52 The random and uneven deposits of accidental glaze created by wood ­firing— the product of wood ash landing and melting on heated clay—ran the risk of obscuring the clarity of the sculpted form. Similarly, Suzuki Osamu participated in one wood firing in Shigaraki but seemingly preferred the control effected by simulating a Shigaraki-like surface using thin sprays of iron slip and ash glaze. Yagi moved further still in the direction of a thin, even, neutral finish for his clay sculpture by perfecting the technique for burnished and smoke-blackened kokutō earthenware (fig. 9.6).53 Yagi made his first pieces in this format around 1957, and eventually he attained the control that produced a rich, even blackness. In many works he emphasized the blackness by inlaying panels of dull gray lead foil. Unlike jōkon-yū glaze or white slip

Figure 9.6  Yagi Kazuo, Untitled, 1958.  Burnished and smoke-infused stoneware; wooden stand, 22.8  x 14.5  x 11.5  cm (without stand). Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art.

182  Louise Allison Cort

Figure 9.7  Yamada Hikaru, Black Pottery Windows (Kokutō no mado), 1983.  Burnished and smoke-infused stoneware, 31.1 x 61 x 7.6 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Gift of Halsey and Alice North in honor of David, Lia, William, and Richard Royle.

or even unglazed clay, the black pottery surface conveyed no historical or emotional associations to a Japanese viewer (although it has been suggested that the technique developed from the smoky firing used for gray roof riles). The sheen of blackness gave visual weight to Yagi’s clay sculptures. Out of respect, Yamada Hikaru took up the black pottery format only after Yagi’s death (fig. 9.7). Especially because Yagi’s black pottery was fired to a low temperature and its surface was vulnerable to damage from handling, this mode also departed completely from the possibility of function. Whereas the conventional materials of fired stoneware and wood-ash glaze used for Yagi’s earliest objet, Mr. Samsa’s Walk, would have permitted insertion of water and flowers into the upright tubes, turning them into miniature vases (and several other works in the 1954 series were designated as vase by their titles), such treatment would have damaged the black pottery irreparably, even if their forms had permitted it. They could only be understood as sculpture. Yagi, however, never abandoned the format of white slip and black pigment that had been his mainstay for modernist vessels in the 1940s and early 1950s. He continued to favor it for functional vessels, including designs for a vase and a teapot that he made in multiples and sold to raise funds to p ­ urchase his rented house and studio (fig. 9.8).54 Throughout his career he also played with white slip’s subtle potential as a veil for sculptural forms, whether rubbed into a carved surface, incised with cryptic messages, painted, or patterned with inlay (fig. 9.9).

Figure 9.8  Yagi Kazuo, Jar—Flowery Inlay for Flowers (Tsubo—Hana no hana mishima), 1971. Stoneware with white slip under clear glaze, 16.5 x 24.4 cm. Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, ­purchase—funds provided anonymously in memory of Yagi Sakiyo.

Figure 9.9  Yagi Kazuo, Wall (Hekitai), 1964. Stoneware with white slip, 52.0 x 68.5  x 6.5  cm. Private collection.

184  Louise Allison Cort Perhaps the most modest, and yet affecting, continuation of the format occurred in Yagi’s and Yamada’s collaborative tableware design project called Mon Kōbō.55 To evoke the rouletted stripes favored by Ishiguro Munemaro, inspired in turn by Song dynasty Cizhou ware, they improvised with rolling clock gears dipped in black pigment over a white slip coating. These straightforward cups and plates successfully addressed issues of production in scale that had stumped a younger Yagi when he considered putting his solar eclipse motif on sake cups. They validated Yagi’s memory of the shock of the aluminum rice bowl and his consistent presentation of himself, when all was said and done, as “just a bowl maker.”

Notes 1 The Formes Gallery show is often cited as the first presentation of Mr. Samsa’s Walk, but a newspaper spread for September 5 that year features a photograph of Yagi (wearing a beret) walking down Gojōzaka slope from his workshop to the communal kiln, balancing a board of unfired works on his shoulder. The caption title—“What on earth is that? It’s ‘Mr. Samsa’!”—shows that the work was being prepared for an exhibition in Kyoto. Mainichi Shinbun, September 5, 1954, copy in Yagi Kazuo scrapbook, private collection. See the photograph reproduced in Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, 102, fig. 3.1. 2 The application in Japan of the term objet to nonfunctional ceramics is usually said to have originated with a review of Yagi’s Formes Gallery exhibition. Hamamura, “Hi o tōshita tsuchi no obuje,” 26–27. (It is unknown whether Hamamura—and, indeed, Yagi—had in mind one of the most famous of such objets, Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain (1917), a manufactured urinal turned on its back.) Todate Kazuko has traced the use of the term objet with regard to ceramics back to the 1949 e­ xhibition announcement of another independent exhibition group, Shikōkai. Todate, “Tōgeishi ni okeru ‘obuje’ dōnyū no kei-i,” 17. See also Todate, “Tōgei obuje no tanjō to tenkai.” 3 Cort, “Japanese Encounters with Clay,” 156–57. 4 This topic has also been explored in Ōtsuki, “Kotōji gihō no saikatsuyō.” 5 Using word play typical of his ironic wit, Yagi coined the hybrid term obujeyaki (“objet ware,” based on the conventional and somewhat old-fashioned way of designating historical ceramic ware types as yaki, for example Shigaraki yaki). The term appears in his 1979 essay “Watashi no jijoden,” originally recorded as a conversation on 1 February 1979, published posthumously in Geijutsu shinchō, May, 1979, and anthologized in Yagi, Kokkoku no honō, 17. Suzuki Osamu employed the term hikibutsu in an essay about Yagi. Suzuki, “Yagi-san no koto,” following 358. 6 Yagi, Kaichū no fūkei; Kokkoku no honō; Obujeyaki. 7 Yagi, “Watashi no jijoden,” 12. 8 Yagi, “Genshi e no zuisō,” 88, originally published in Senshi, Afurika, Oseania bijutsu, Taikei sekai no bijutsu I [Arts of prehistoric Japan, Africa, and Oceania, Encyclopedia of arts of the world I] (Tokyo: Gakushū kenkyūsha, 1973). Classical music cafes (meikyoku kissa) of the 1920s through 1950s, with their “nearly concert-hall conditions for listening to classical music,” are evoked by White in Coffee Life in Japan, 60–62. 9 The title of Yagi’s sculpture refers to the man who turns into a cockroach in the 1915 novel The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (1883–1924). According to Yagi

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  185

10 11

12

13

14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

31 32

Akira, his father did not set out to make a sculpture to evoke the story but applied the title to the work only after it was completed (personal communication, ca. 2001). Yagi, “Watashi no jijoden,” 15. Except for his brief tour of duty in southern China, cut short by illness, Yagi’s only travel outside Japan took place late in his life, in 1973, as a member of a Silk Road study group that visited Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran. The Kyoto University of Fine Arts, where Yagi was teaching, organized the trip. See Yagi, “Jisa no kanata no shi,” transcribed from his personal notebooks of his travels. Yagi did meet one of his heroes, Joan Miró (1893–1983), when the Spanish artist came to Japan in 1966 and Yagi closely observed his unexpected responses to the Katsura Rikyū detached palace and the tanuki (raccoon dog) garden sculptures of Shigaraki. Yagi, “Miro gahaku to aruku,” 185–90, originally published in Mainichi shinbun, October 4, 1966. Yagi, “Ishiguro Munemaro-san no koto,” 163–64, originally published in Tankō, May 1965. Yagi probably heard this story from Ishiguro. Robert Lockhart Hobson (1872–1941) was Keeper of the Department of Oriental Antiquities and Ethnography at the British Museum. Among his numerous publications, Yagi is probably referring to the famously expensive two-volume set of Chinese Pottery and Porcelain (1915). Yagi, “Watashi no tōjishi,” 28, originally published in Nihon bijutsu kōgei, ­February 1975 – January 1976. Ibid., 30. Ibid., 27. Yagi, “Ishiguro Munemaro-san no koto,” 165. As a young man Issō too had been a founding member of an independent potters’ group, called Akatsuchi (Red Earth, 1919–23), but Yagi recalled that Issō laughed mockingly at his early decorative style: “No matter what you draw, it’s Surreal [shūru].” Yagi, “Watashi no tōjishi,” 24. Ibid., 27. Yagi, “Watashi no kobijitsu sampo,” 68–69, originally published in Chōsen bunka, 29–35 (1976–78). Ibid., 56. Yagi, “Watashi no tōjishi,” 24. Ibid., 29. Yagi, “Watashi no kobijitsu sampo,” 70. Yagi, “Watashi no jijoden,” 17–18. Yagi, “Pikaso to watashi,” 184, published originally in Mainichi shinbun, July 23, 1964. Yagi, “Tomimoto-san no koto,” 158, originally published in Tomimoto, Tomimoto Kenkichi tōgei sakuhinshū. Yagi, “Watashi no jijoden,” 15. Yagi, “Jūsoku wa tatakai o yowameru,”240, originally published in Kyoto ­shinbun, November 12, 1969. Suzuki Osamu, Rondo (1950), Ikenobō Society of Floral Art, Kyoto, published in Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, fig. 3.49; Nakajima Kiyoshi, Jar with Slip-trailed Décor (1951), published in Nakajima, Nakajima Hiroshi, no. 33. Yamada Hikaru, Vase with Two Mouths (1952), Museum of Modern Ceramic Art, Gifu, published in National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Crafts in Kyoto, no. 36. Nakajima Kiyoshi, Jar with Sand Inlay (1953), published in Nakajima, Nakajima Hiroshi, no. 43; Yamada Hikaru, Work (1953), Museum of Modern Art, Waka­ yama, published in Yamada, Yamada Hikaru, no. 103.

186  Louise Allison Cort 33 Yagi wrote two essays about Numata, “Atorie no omoidebanashi,” originally published in Mainichi shinbun, April 3, 1966, and “Wasureenu hito,” first published in Kyoto shinbun, 24 April 1968. 34 Yagi Kazuo, Wild Hare (1939), private collection, published in National M ­ useum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Yagi Kazuo, no. 3. 35 Yagi, “Watashi no jijoden,” 14; “Watashi no tōjishi, 23. 36 Yagi, “Doki no sekai,” 93, originally published in Nihon—senshi [Japan—­ prehistory]. Kadokawa-ban Sekai bijutsu zenshū 1 [Kadokawa anthology of world art 1]. Tokyo: Kadokawa shoten, 1968. 37 See Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, 168, 171, 181, 186. 38 Yagi, “Doki no sekai,” 94. 39 Yagi, “Shigaraki–Igayaki no kanshō,” 112, originally published in Shigaraki–Iga, Nihon no yakimono 7 (Kyoto: Tankōsha, 1964). 40 Yagi, “Doki no sekai,” 93. 41 Winther-Tamaki, “Yagi Kazuo,” 134. 42 Yagi Kazuo, Yagi Kazuo sakuhinshū (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1980), no.22; National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Yagi Kazuo—A Retrospective (Kyoto: Nihon Keizai Shinbun, 2004), no. 18. 43 Yagi Kazuo, Yagi Kazuo sakuhinshū (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1980), no. 23. 44 Ibid., no. 21; National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Yagi Kazuo—A Retrospective (Kyoto: Nihon Keizai Shinbun, 2004), no. 21. 45 Ibid., 294. 46 Yagi Kazuo, Yagi Kazuo sakuhinshū (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1980), nos. 31 and 32; National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Yagi Kazuo—A Retrospective (Kyoto: Nihon Keizai Shinbun, 2004), nos. 22 and 23. The work Direction of the Wind (Fūi) is now in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, gift of Halsey and Alice North, 2017, and is now titled Direction of the Wind—­ Unglazed Clay Pipes (Fūi—yakishime paipu). 47 Suzuki Osamu, Wild Samurai (1959), Kitamura Museum, Kyoto, published in Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, fig. 3.63; Suzuki Osamu, Clay Figure (1965), The National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, published in ibid., fig. 3.64. 48 Yagi Kazuo, Memory of Cloud (1959), Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art, published in ibid., fig. 3.55. According to Yagi’s son Yagi Akira, the title references the mushroom cloud of the atomic bomb. 49 Eventually a Kyoto kiln builder, Yoshikawa Mitsuru, invented a way of introducing wood slivers or gas into an electric kiln to cause a reduction atmosphere and approximate wood-fired coloration. I am grateful to Rob Barnard for this information. 50 Yagi Kazuo, Wall (1963), private collection, published in ibid., fig. 3.58. Beginning in the seventeenth century, Kyoto potters had come to rely upon the nearby pottery-making center of Shigaraki as a source for stoneware clay. Depending on the potter’s intentions, the clay was available in various formats, ranging from minimally processed versions that would yield the red, stony appearance of wood-fired Shigaraki vessels to levigated forms that were fine-grained and off-white in color. 51 Yagi, “Shiroito-chō 570 banchi,” 249. 52 According to Yagi’s American student at the Kyoto University of Fine Arts, Rob Barnard, Yagi “felt that woodfiring was dangerous. He felt it for himself and stayed away from it because he liked it too much. He thought, if I put the stuff in the kiln and it comes out beautiful, I’ll love it and never be able to tell whether I’ve succeeded conceptually.” Cort and Wright, “The Peters Valley Woodfire Conference,” 84.

The role of glaze in avant-garde ceramics  187 53 For example, Yagi Kazuo, Untitled (1958), Kyoto Municipal Museum of Art, published in Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, fig. 3.56. 54 Yagi Kazuo, Vase (1959), private collection, published in National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, Yagi Kazuo, no. 35. 55 Three examples of Mon Kōbō production works—a tumbler, a tea cup, and a dish (1962)—are published in Cort and Winther-Tamaki, Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, fig. 3.61.

References Cort, Louise Allison. “Japanese Encounters with Clay.” In Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics: A Close Embrace of the Earth, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Bert Winther-Tamaki. Washington, DC: The Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2003. ______ and Bert Winther-Tamaki. Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics: A Close Embrace of the Earth. Washington, DC: The Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2003. ______ and Malcolm Wright. “The Peters Valley Woodfire Conference.” Studio Potter 12, no. 2, 1984. Hamamura Jun. “Hi o tōshita tsuchi no obuje” [Clay objets passed through the fire]. Bijutsu techō 7, no. 94 (February 1955). Hida Toyorō and Inaga Shigemi, eds. Owarikirenai “kindai”—Yagi Kazuo to obujeyaki [Unending “modernity”; Yagi Kazuo and objet ware]. Tokyo: Bigaku Shuppan, 2008. Hobson, Robert Lockhart. Chinese Pottery and Porcelain: An Account of the Potter’s Art in China from Primitive Times to the Present Day. London and New York: Cassell, 1915. Nakajima Hiroshi. Nakajima Hiroshi. Kyoto: Yukawa Shobō, 2001. National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto. Crafts in Kyoto [1945–2000]. Kyoto: ­National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, 2001. ______. Yagi Kazuo—A Retrospective. Kyoto: National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto, 2004. Ōtsuki Noriko. “Kotōji gihō no saikatsuyō” [Reuse of techniques from ancient ceramics]. In Owarikirenai ‘kindai’—Yagi Kazuo to obujeyaki, edited by Hida ­Toyorō and Inaga Shigemi, 121–48. Tokyo: Bigaku Shuppan, 2008. Suzuki Osamu. “Yagi-san no koto” [About Mr. Yagi] In Yagi Kazuo, Kokkoku no honō, 360–61. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. Salter, Rebecca. “Japanese Black Fire.” Ceramic Review 85 (1984): 19–20. Todate Kazuko. “Tōgei obuje no tanjō to tenkai” [The birth and development of the ceramic objet]. Nihon kindai tōgeishi [History of modern Japanese ceramics], 62–79. Tokyo: Abe Shuppan, 2016. ______. “Tōgeishi ni okeru ‘obuje’ dōnyū no kei-i to hijitsuyōteki tōgei to shite no obuje no seiritsu—‘Zamuza-shi no sampo’ to Yagi Kazuo no sakkasei o megutte” [The introduction of ‘objet’ and the creation of nonfunctional formative objects in Japanese ceramic history—Zamuza-shi no sampo and the artistry of Yagi Kazuo]. Tōyō tōji 35 (2005–06): 15–29.

188  Louise Allison Cort Tomimoto Kenkichi. Tomimoto Kenkichi tōgei sakuhinshū [Collected ceramic works of Tomimoto Kenkichi]. Tokyo: Bijutsu Shuppansha, 1974. White, Merry. Coffee Life in Japan. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2012. Winther-Tamaki, Bert. Art in the Encounter of Nations: Japanese and American Artists in the Early Postwar Years. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2001. ______. “Yagi Kazuo: The Admission of the Nonfunctional Object into the Japanese Pottery World.” Journal of Design History 12, no. 2 (1999): 123–41. Yagi Kazuo. “Atorie no omoidebanashi—Numata Ichiga sensei” [Recollections of an atelier—my teacher Numata Ichiga]. Kokkoku no honō, 151–52. Kyoto: Shinshindō shuppan, 1981. ______. “Doki no sekai” [World of earthenware]. Kokkoku no honō, 93–95. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Genshi e no zuisō—mumeisei no setsujitsukan” [Notes toward the ­primitive—the sincerity of namelessness]. Kokkoku no honō, 87–92. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Ishiguro Munemaro-san no koto” [About Ishiguro Munemaro]. Kokkoku no honō, 161–67. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Jisa no kanata no shi—Chukintō kikkō nikki” [Death beyond the time difference—Middle East travel diary]. Kokkoku no honō, 291–326. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Jūsoku wa tatakai o yowameru” [Sufficiency weakens the struggle]. Kokkoku no honō, 240–42. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. Kaichū no fūkei [Landscape in my pocket]. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1976. ______. Kokkoku no honō [Momentary flame]. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Miro gahaku to aruku” [Traveling with the artist Miró]. Kokkoku no honō, 185–90. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. Obujeyaki: Yagi Kazuo tōgei zuihitsu [Objet ware: Yagi Kazuo essays on ceramics]. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1999. ______. “Pikaso to watashi” [Picasso and I]. Kokkoku no honō, 183–84. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Shigaraki–Igayaki no kanshō” [Appreciation of Shigaraki and Iga wares]. Kokkoku no honō, 111–13. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Shiroito-chō 570 banchi” [No. 570 Shiroito-chō], Kokkoku no honō, 247–49. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Tomimoto-san no koto” [About Mr. Tomimoto]. Kokkoku no honō, 153–60. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______.“Watashi no jijoden” [My autobiography]. Kokkoku no honō, 9–20. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Watashi no kobijitsu sampo” [My strolls among antique arts]. Kokkoku no honō, 56–72. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Watashi no tōjishi” [My ceramic records]. Kokkoku no honō, 23–55. Kyoto: Shinshindō Shuppan, 1981. ______. “Wasureenu hito—Numata Ichiga sensei” [An unforgettable person—my teacher Numata Ichiga]. Obujeyaki, 58–60. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1999. ______. Yagi Kazuo sakuhinshū [Yagi Kazuo collected works]. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1980. “Yagi Kazuo no nokoshita ‘kotoba’” [“Words” left by Yagi Kazuo]. Honohō geijutsu 43 (1995), 6–58. Yamada Hikaru. Yamada Hikaru—Claywork Being. Gifu: Museum of Fine Arts; Itami: Itami City Museum of Art; Tokyo: Meguro Museum of Art, 1999.

10 Koyama Fujio’s view of modern Japanese ceramics and his role in the creation of “Living National Treasures” Kida Takuya (Translated by Cheryl Silverman) Ceramics occupy an exceptional position among the various categories of postwar Japanese craft. In the prewar period, mainstream craftsmen hailed from the Tokyo School of Fine Arts (Tokyo Bijutsu Gakkō) and participated in the official Imperial Art Academy Exhibitions (Teiten, later renamed Shin Bunten). Initially the only art craft (bijutsu kōgei) majors at the Tokyo School of Fine Arts were metalwork and lacquer, so craftsmen working in those fields dominated Teiten-centered activities in the field of prewar modern craft. Teiten-exhibited ceramics were mostly modernist, without reference to traditional styles. After the war, however, the Teiten system collapsed, and a transformation took place with regard to what was considered “mainstream” in Japanese modern craft. The perception of Japan as a “potter’s paradise” and “pottery kingdom” spread, and ceramics took a prominent position within the world of modern Japanese craft. In the search for the reasons behind this postwar turnaround in Japanese modern craft, ceramics specialist Koyama Fujio (1900–75) emerges as a key person (fig. 10.1). Broadly speaking, the field of Japanese ceramics was transformed following World War II in the 1950s, when the concept of Japanese “traditional craft” (dentō kōgei) entered into the mainstream discourse of craft. Koyama Fujio was instrumental in legitimizing and bringing to the fore ceramic artists such as Arakawa Toyozō (1894–1985) and Ishiguro Munemaro (1893–1968), who had not exhibited in the Imperial Art Academy Exhibitions (Teiten) or the National Industrial Art Exhibitions (Shōkōten). They had been virtually unnoticed and unknown before the mid-1950s advent of the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition (Nihon Dentō Kōgei Ten) and their designation as “Living National Treasures” (Preservers of Important Intangible Cultural Properties).1 Koyama Fujio passed away over 40 years ago, and his influence on the current ceramics scene has faded. Now, his name mainly evokes the image of a historian of Chinese ceramics, or the unfortunate “Einin no tsubo” incident that resulted in his stepping down from the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties in 1961.2 Retracing Koyama’s broad involvement in

190  Kida Takuya

Figure 10.1  Koyama Fujio (right) with collector Sir Percival David, Lady David, and art dealer Mayuyama Junkichi, Bridgestone Museum, Tokyo, ­November 9, 1956.  Courtesy of Japan Ceramic Society.

the field of Japanese ceramics during the 1950s reveals, however, the importance of his work and the pivotal position he occupied. As a member of the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties in the 1950s, he was deeply involved in designating “national treasures” and “important cultural properties,” as well as in creating and enacting the system for recognizing “Living National Treasures.” He was also involved in curating important exhibitions of contemporary ceramics at the National Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo and at venues overseas. Koyama had an extensive international network of contacts and was respected internationally as an authority on the history of ceramics. He also had a tremendous influence on potters of his time. In this chapter, I consider Koyama Fujio’s concept of “traditional craft,” as revealed in the exhibitions with which he was involved and in his larger discourse, in order to explore how he viewed Japanese modern ceramics. Koyama’s postwar influence was most profound in the selection of ceramic artists as “Living National Treasures.” He was without doubt an important figure in the mapping of a direction for the concept of “traditional craft” and the emerging “potter’s paradise” in Japan.

Koyama Fujio’s view of modern ceramics in the prewar period Although Japan has a long history of collecting ceramics for the tea ceremony, not until the Taisho era (1912–26) was antique pottery collected purely for appreciation and study, apart from the practice of tea. The

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  191 first academic group for the study of ceramics, the Tōjiki Kenkyūkai (Ceramic Studies Society), was formed in 1914 under the leadership of Ōkōchi ­Masatoshi (1878–1952) and Okuda Seiichi (1883–1955).3 Ōkōchi, professor of physics (ballistics) at Tokyo University, and Okuda, tutor of psychology, called together professors from other departments (art history, architecture history, archaeology, aesthetics, psychology, engineering, and physics) to start this ceramics study group. The group met monthly, bringing actual pieces for examination. Their aim was to make evaluations purely in terms of academic research and appreciation, rather than to rely upon the “venerable provenance” of tea ceremony items. They approached pottery as objects of academic study, and as scholars rather than as tea masters or connoisseurs, an approach credited to Ōkōchi Masatoshi and Okuda Seiichi. As part of his activities for the study group, Okuda received funds from the university to travel to the Kutani kilns in Ishikawa Prefecture in April 1914 and then to the site of the Ninsei kiln in Kyoto that August, to carry out investigations and to collect pottery fragments—in other words, to conduct what was an early foray into excavating ancient kilns in an empirical way. After the Great Kantō Earthquake in 1923, Okuda Seiichi expanded the study group to establish the Research Institute of Oriental Ceramics (Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo). He set out to create a foundation for ceramics research as an academic field in Japan on a par with British research, and in November 1927 he launched the journal Tōji (Oriental Ceramics). Koyama Fujio, who became a member of the editorial staff of Tōji in 1932, can be understood as a direct disciple of Okuda Seiichi in his study of ancient ceramics. As a youth in 1923, Koyama came under the influence of socialism and dropped out of Tokyo University of Commerce, but shortly thereafter he joined the third regiment of the Imperial Guard as a one-year volunteer.4 While in military service, he became increasingly interested in ceramics studies, influenced by Okabe Nagayo, younger brother of the first director of the National Museum of Modern Art. After completing his service he began paying daily visits to the National Library to browse all the books on ceramics, but he was struck by the realization that books could tell him nothing. Aspiring to become a potter, in 1925 he moved to Seto to train under Yano Tōtō (1895–1947), a pioneer studio potter. While there he was deeply impressed by the beauty of ceramic shards found in ancient kiln sites. Taking up residence in the potters’ district of Jagatani in Kyoto from 1927 to 1930, he dedicated himself to producing pottery and befriended another aspiring potter, Ishiguro Munemaro. However, he realized it was very hard to earn a living by making ceramics. In 1930, Koyama decided to devote himself instead to the study of the history of ceramics, reading all the books on ancient pottery that he could find in Tokyo’s Tōyō Bunko (Oriental Library). In 1931, he assisted Okuda Seiichi in selecting and cataloguing the best works of Chinese ceramics from Yokogawa Tamisuke’s vast collection and recommending them for donation to the Tokyo National Museum.

192  Kida Takuya Koyama was at the forefront of research in the history of ceramics, against a background of a boom in the 1930s for collecting antique pottery and excavating ancient kilns. He visited kiln sites in rural pottery-producing areas such as Seto, Mino, Karatsu, and Bizen, building relationships with potters who had a common interest in excavation and pottery shards. At the same time, various surveys and excavations were being carried out at important ancient kiln ruins in China by British sinologist Archibald D. Brankston (1909–41) and American James Marshall Plumer (1899–1960). Koyama’s international reputation as a ceramics scholar was boosted in 1941 by his discovery in northern China of the ruins of a kiln that had produced the famous Northern Song dynasty (960–1127) white porcelain ware known as Dingyao (fig. 10.2). While such interest in historical ceramics in the 1920s and 1930s was considerable, once-prosperous pottery-making families in rural areas fell upon financial difficulties. Nakazato Tarōemon XII (Muan, 1895–1985), for example, installed as the twelfth-generation Tarōemon in 1927, assumed control over the Ochawangama kiln at a time when Karatsu wares were out of favor. He could not make a living solely from producing pottery but had to spend half his time working in the fields. He earned cash by searching

Figure 10.2  Ceramic shards discovered by Koyama Fujio from the ruins of the Dingyao kiln in northern China, 1941.  Nezu Museum, Tokyo. Koyama ­Fujio, a Potter’s Dream, Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 2003.

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  193 for clay in the vicinity of his home and selling it to other potters.5 He also augmented his income by excavating for shards around old Karatsu kilns.6 Similarly, the Miwa family of Hagi, celebrated producers of tea ceremony ware under the patronage of the Mōri clan since the Edo period (1615–1868), experienced a decline in the early decades of the twentieth century. Their eldest son, who traditionally would have inherited the family kiln, instead abandoned the family business, left Japan for Korea, and then went on to Shanghai.7 As a result, their second son, Kunihiro (Kyūwa, 1895–1981), became the tenth generation Miwa Kyūsetsu in 1927. Ishiguro Munemaro, who produced pottery in the village of Yase, outside Kyoto, is known to have been resigned to a life of poverty and self-sufficiency, subsisting on vegetables that his wife farmed in a nearby field.8 In this context, Koyama Fujio, too, had aspired in his youth to be a potter, and trained in Seto and Kyoto in the 1920s. Observing the plight of potters around him, he may have chosen the way of a ceramics scholar instead of maker because the potter’s life seemed too hard.9 When we consider the lavish lifestyles of many contemporary Japanese potters, these stories may be difficult to envision, but the conditions most potters experienced in the 1920s and 1930s were far from those of a “potter’s paradise.” In prewar days, Koyama Fujio did not write a great deal on potters of the time. However, in a short text written for the catalogue of Ara­ kawa ­Toyozō’s first solo exhibition in October 1941, Koyama mentioned the names of contemporary potters he evaluated highly—Tomimoto Kenkichi (1886–1963), Kawai Kanjirō (1890–1966), Hamada Shōji (1890–1966), and Kitaōji ­Rosanjin (1883–1959). Aside from those four, he also named ­A rakawa and Ishiguro Munemaro as potters doing “serious work.”10 When the “Living National Treasure” system was initiated in 1955, four of the six potters just mentioned were designated in the first round—­Tomimoto, Hamada, Arakawa, and Ishiguro. Although there is no evidence, it is generally believed that Kawai and Rosanjin declined the honor that year.11 In other words, the potters whom Koyama Fujio recommended for “Living National Treasure” status were those whose work he had praised in the prewar period. The six potters Koyama identified in 1941 are now acknowledged as masters of Showa era (1926–89) ceramics, but because they were not included in the Teiten exhibition, the greatest authority in the prewar period, some of them were virtually ignored. But Koyama did not care about records in such government-sponsored exhibitions. His 1941 list is a testament to his surprisingly astute insight and ability to see beyond group affiliations and styles to identify artists otherwise unrecognized in the prewar period. Arakawa and Ishiguro remain admired as prominent ceramists to this day, but in 1941 they were virtually unknown. Koyama praised Arakawa for the depth of his work and his steady pleasure in recreating Shino ware of the Momoyama period (1573–1615), even while enduring untold hardships in isolation in the deep mountains of Mino. In contrast, while

194  Kida Takuya Koyama did not cite specific names, his use of the harsh phrase “would-be artists imitating modernism” to criticize ceramists participating in the Teiten exhibitions suggests that he did not think much of their work.12 It should be noted that his comment presumably did not extend to Tomimoto Kenkichi, for whose work he registered admiration, even though Tomimoto had become a member of the Imperial Art Academy (Teikoku Geijutsuin) in 1937 and also submitted pieces for the Shin Bunten (New Teiten) exhibitions.13 The importance of the Teiten to this history cannot be overemphasized. During World War II, conditions for potters who were not part of the ­Teiten were harsh and constrained. With the Regulation on the Production and Sale of Luxury Items issued on July 7, 1940 (the so-called “July 7th ban”), the annual production of most potters was severely restricted. Ceramic artists who had been on the Teiten jury or members of the Imperial Art Academy, however, were considered “persons qualified for the preservation of the arts” or, in other words, of the “art rank” (maru-gei), with a privileged position and a certain allowance to produce freely. Ara­ kawa Toyozō, Ishiguro Munemaro, Kitaōji Rosanjin, and others who had not participated in the Teiten were considered to be outside the “art rank.” They could continue their work as “persons qualified for the preservation of skills” or “skill rank” (maru-gi), but they faced severe restrictions. The number and sale value of works permitted to “skill rank” potters represented only a small fraction of what was allowed for potters of the “art rank.” For example, the annual limit in the sale value of Arakawa Toyozō’s production was 5,000 yen (a 60 kg bag of rice cost 16.5 yen in 1941) and he was limited to no more than 120 works.14 A simple calculation reveals that he was eligible to receive just 41.6 yen per piece—a remarkable contrast to what was allowed for “art rank” potters. Tomimoto Kenkichi, for example, who was a member of the Imperial Art Academy and registered as an “art rank” potter, continued despite wartime controls to produce some masterpieces. His hexagonal box with fern pattern is a representative work from this time and uses Kutani-style overglaze enamel techniques. A receipt reveals that it was on sale at the Ginza Hattori Wakō department store for the price of 2,200 yen in December 1941, at the beginning of the Pacific War. The gap between the treatment of “art rank” and “skill rank” persons was huge. Non-establishment potters such as Arakawa Toyozō, Ishiguro Munemaro, and Kitaōji Rosanjin, who had stayed away from the Teiten, must have felt deeply the power of official exhibitions and government controls. After the war, however, the dominance of the Teiten structure greatly declined, when it was succeeded by the Nitten (Japan Fine Arts Exhibition) and the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, which started in 1954, and with the establishment of the system of “Living National Treasures” in 1955. Within this new framework, Koyama played a central role in redefining the perception of potters of merit.

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  195

“The Momoyama revival” and the American gaze Towards the end of the Pacific War in 1945, Koyama was drafted into the military, and the end of the war found him in Korea as a second lieutenant. After repatriation, he became involved with the Japan Ceramics Promotion Association (Nihon Tōji Shinkōkai). In the immediate postwar years, severe food shortages beset Japan, which had to rely on food imports from the United States. It was decided that crafts such as ceramics and lacquer wares would be exported to the United States in return.15 This exchange was called “payments in kind” (mikaeri busshi). The Japan Ceramics Promotion Association oversaw the production of the export ceramics, and Koyama Fujio was one of the advisors for this endeavor. Although Koyama had had some contact with contemporary ceramic artists in the prewar days, he strengthened his ties through his role giving advice for “payments in kind.” The other advisors of the Japan Ceramics Promotion Association were Hamada Shōji, Ishiguro Munemaro, ceramic designer Hineno Sakuzō (1901–84), potter Funaki Michitada (1900–63), and ceramics historian Mizumachi Wasaburō (1890–1979). Koyama joined them in May 1946.16 In June 1948 the association held a contemporary ceramics exhibition at the Hankyū department store in Osaka, where they designated as “neoclassicists” potters who included Arakawa Toyozō, Ishiguro Munemaro, Kawa­ kita Handeishi (1878–1963), Kitaōji Rosanjin, Kaneshige Tōyō (1896–1967), Miwa Kyūsetsu, and Koyama Fujio—all of whom had been outside the Teiten framework before the war.17 It is worthy of note that ceramists who were involved in the revival of the Momoyama style emerged under the name of “neoclassicist.” This exhibition presaged the advent of the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition. All these ceramists had excavated ancient kiln ruins or collected old pottery shards in the 1930s; all were intent on reviving styles of Momoyama period pottery. Arakawa Toyozō’s discovery of Momoyama period Shino ware shards in the Mino area in 1930, overturning the prevailing concept that such ware had been made in Seto, had initiated a rush to excavate there as well as at kiln ruins in Seto, Karatsu, and even Bizen. Local potters were as interested as researchers in unearthing kiln ruins. Through excavation they found authentic “Japanese-ness” in Momoyama period pottery. They shared the wish to rediscover and recreate lost Momoyama “traditions,” in what came to be called the “Momoyama revival.”18 Although considered “outsiders” in the system dominated by the Teiten, these potters pursued the acquisition of techniques to express their own authenticity. Collecting and studying shards and incorporating that technical knowledge into their own work, they built a foundation for recognition. After the war, the “payments in kind” initiative afforded them the opportunity to strengthen relationships. Koyama acted as a mediator, connecting them with scholars and experts of ceramics. Thus, the result of the postwar “payments in kind” production was to shake up prewar ceramics hierarchies and form the underlying network for the new Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition.

196  Kida Takuya In September 1951, the Japan Ceramics Promotion Association held the Contemporary Japanese Ceramic Art Exhibition in the Reader’s Digest Building, designed by Antonin Raymond (1888–1976) and newly opened at Takebashi in Tokyo. Notable attendees were high-ranking GHQ (General Headquarters of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers) officials, including Military Governor of Japan Matthew Bunker Ridgway (1895–1993) and Mrs. Ridgeway, and the head of the GHQ diplomatic mission ­William J. Sebald (1901–1980) and Mrs. Sebald.19 Koyama Fujio guided them through the exhibition.20 Impressed by the ceramics displayed, the GHQ officers purchased Iga, Shino, Ki-Seto, and Oribe revival pieces made by Rosanjin and Arakawa Toyozō. Journalist Muraki Chii wrote in his exhibition review that the appreciation of the revival Oribe and Shino-style wares made him “proud to be Japanese” and “comforted by this point in common with the Americans.”21 As these comments suggest, the GHQ officers’ positive reaction to the revival style ceramic art, with its vestiges of pre-modern Japanese traditional culture, helped to restore self-esteem that had been shattered by defeat. At the same time, it provided a feeling of affinity with the Americans. The impact of the United States on Japan following the war was of course great, but in the sphere of culture there was a kind of “invisible power,” the exact nature of which may not necessarily be obvious. With this in mind, and considering Koyama Fujio’s Japanese-American cultural exchange activities in the 1950s, Koyama appears as a most important mediator, who was conscious of the American gaze as he gave direction to postwar Japanese ceramics.

Koyama Fujio and contemporary Japanese ceramic art exhibitions (1950s) In the 1950s, Koyama was fully engaged in wide-ranging activities as Japan’s “world renowned scholar of ceramics.” He was responsible for designating objects as “national treasures” and “important cultural properties” for ­Japan’s Cultural Properties Protection Committee (predecessor to the Agency for Cultural Affairs), which had been established in 1950, and for naming people as holders of “intangible cultural property” (mukei bunkazai). At the same time, he was involved in the management of the Kanagawa Prefectural Museum of Modern Art and served for two years (1951–53) as lecturer at Tokyo University. From 1953, he took a central role in editing two landmark multi-volume publications on ceramics, the 16-volume World Ceramics (­Sekai tōji zenshū) from Kawade Shobō and the eight-volume Ancient Oriental Ceramics (Tōyō kotōji), published by Bijutsu Shuppan. Contributing essays and articles for various magazines, presenting lectures, and organizing ceramics exhibitions, Koyama was deeply involved in the world of ceramics. Japanese ceramics came to play an important role in the cultural representation of Japan in international cultural exchanges in the postwar

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  197 period, and Koyama Fujio, as a scholar, was a central figure. The first such exhibition was Japon: Céramique Contemporaine (Japan: Contemporary ­Ceramics), held at the Musée Cernuschi in Paris in 1950. René Grousset (1885–1952) and Vadime Elisseeff (1918–2002) of the Cernuschi Museum planned the exhibition, but Koyama Fujio worked out the selection of artists.22 The exhibition consisted of 70 works by 49 artists who belonged variously to the Nitten, Shinshōkai,23 Kokugakai,24 Shikōkai, and Sōdeisha ceramic art groups.25 This was the first ostensibly comprehensive exhibition of contemporary Japanese ceramics anywhere in the world. It is not clear if this broad selection of artists resulted from a request from the French side or if Koyama Fujio, in his capacity as a scholar, was attempting to present a balanced view of the overall range of contemporary Japanese ceramics. He may have taken the international stage as an opportunity to present his own view, which did not adhere to preconceived authoritarianism of the prewar period. What is certain is that the exhibition was not bound by group affiliations or stylistic constraints of the sort that would have governed a typical exhibition in Japan. It was a breakthrough exhibition reflecting the condition of contemporary Japanese ceramic art. The exhibition, which later traveled to Vallauris in the south of France, was a great success. Attendance by several thousand visitors per day gave the Japanese organizers and others involved confidence in Japan as a “pottery kingdom.”26 In the 1950s, the Rockefeller Foundation and the Japan Society in New York took the initiative in developing a broad range of US-Japan cultural exchange projects.27 The Museum of Modern Art in New York held a solo exhibition of Rosanjin’s ceramic works in 1954. In 1956, the Japan Society organized Japanese Life Culture, a series of traveling exhibitions that toured the United States, packaged in eight versions focusing variously on genres of clothing and textiles, ceramics, dolls, calligraphy, and contemporary prints.28 These exhibitions appeared at museums, libraries, and schools across the United States. The long-running ceramics exhibition traveled to some 30 venues from 1956 to 1964. It featured about 120 ceramic pieces selected by Koyama Fujio, including works by individual artists such as Kitaōji Rosanjin, Hamada Shōji, Arakawa Toyozō, and Ishiguro Munemaro, as well as a wide range of pieces from high-quality Western-style tableware manufacturers Noritake and Ōkura China, and items by unidentified craftsmen in the “folk craft” villages of Tamba and Onta.29 The range thus spanned works by Living National Treasures to relatively inexpensive folk craft items. In 1961, the Oakland Art Museum (now the Oakland Museum of California, OMCA) held the exhibition Japanese Ceramics: From Ancient to Modern Times. Consisting of 171 pieces of Japanese ceramics selected by Koyama Fujio, the exhibition was divided into four sections arranged chronologically.30 Modern Ceramics formed Section IV, with 22 works by 13 artists.31 Given such a small number of artists, the selection could be expected to reflect Koyama Fujio’s preferences, but it was in fact a balanced

198  Kida Takuya representation of leading artists of the various groups of ceramic artists— Nitten, Nihon Kōgeikai,32 Shinshōkai, Kokugakai, and Sōdeisha. Koyama Fujio also demonstrated his emphasis on balance in Japan in the Contemporary Japanese Ceramic Art Exhibition held at the National Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo in May 1959. This large-scale exhibition included 190 pieces by 135 artists. The ambitious project aimed at reflecting the entirety of the ceramic art scene as it was in 1959.33 This suggests that, rather than seeking to promote his personal preferences, Koyama acted as a scholar, taking into account the full range of trends of the day in an effort to represent a balance of all the different directions at the time. He divided them into six groups: Nitten (Itaya Hazan, Kiyomizu Rokuwa, Kusube ­Yaichi et al.), Shinshōkai (Tomimoto Kenkichi, Kondō Yūzō et al.), folkcraft school (Hamada Shōji, Kawai Kanjirō et al.), vanguard (Yagi Kazuo, ­Suzuki Osamu et al.), Nihon Kōgeikai (Arakawa Toyozō, Ishiguro Munemaro et al.), and independent (Kitaōji Rosanjin, Kawai Unosuke et al.).34 The Nitten artists were the largest contingent, a group of 35 accounting for around a quarter of the artists in the show. Koyama’s commentary in the exhibition catalogue, however, reveals neither praise nor criticism of the Nitten artists. He does, however, laud Tomimoto Kenkichi (Shinshōkai) as “a treasure of the Japanese ceramic art world,” independent ceramist Kitaōji Rosanjin as “renowned the world over as an unparalleled great master,” and Kawai Kanjirō and Hamada Shōji (folk-craft school) as “also renowned the world over as great masters who have opened new frontiers.”35 It is thus noteworthy that those Nitten (former Teiten) artists who had enjoyed positions of overwhelming advantage in prewar years were now being supplanted—at least in the various exhibitions that Koyama organized—by artists who had stayed away from the official exhibitions and been out of favor. From the 1950s on, Koyama Fujio wrote many introductions to publications on Japanese ceramics. In these, he repeatedly expressed the following line of thought: The development of pottery in Japan has lagged behind China and ­Korea … However, Japanese ceramics quickly advanced with the rapid progress of the Meiji era (1868–1912) and the improvement of Japanese kiln technology. Japan has excellent potters and the people of Japan use quality ceramics in their daily life. There are many types of Japanese pottery and many opportunities for trade, far surpassing China, Vietnam, and Korea. It is valid to say that Japan is the world’s greatest “pottery kingdom (yakimono ōkoku)” … According to the Ministry of International Trade and Industry, fiscal year 1957 exports of pottery amounted to 26 billion yen. The Research and Statistics Department reports for 1956 a total number of 7820 pottery kilns, with 472 of those dormant, meaning that Japan is the largest manufacturer of ceramics in Asia, and that it has now surpassed China, Vietnam, and Korea as leader in this field. No other country has so many excellent potters as Japan, producing ceramics that are technically preeminent in the world and rich in variety of styles.36

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  199 Koyama Fujio’s points supporting the idea of Japan as a “pottery kingdom” are as follows: large quantities of Japanese ceramics are exported; the Japanese public uses a rich variety of high-quality ceramics; and ceramic artists are numerous and are doing excellent work. In a roundtable discussion broadcast on the government TV station NHK in 1964, Koyama Fujio commented, giving concrete figures, on the conditions Japanese potters enjoyed: There is no country that allows ceramic artists a more privileged position than Japan. Japan is a paradise for potters (tōgeika no rakuen). There are two million people in the United States engaged in making ceramics. However, none of them can make a living from selling their work. In Japan, on the other hand, there are at least two hundred studio potters making their living from selling their work. Japanese ceramics are extremely expensive. The works of American and European ceramic artists sell for only a few thousand yen. Even works by Bernard Leach, the most famous of British potters, generally command only around ten thousand yen, possibly in some cases twenty or thirty thousand yen. In contrast, works by Itaya Hazan (1872–1963) or Tomimoto Kenkichi garner two million or three million yen.37

Neoclassicism in ceramic art The manner in which the number of ceramic artists in Japan making a living from their art significantly increased, making Japan a “potter’s paradise,” probably relates to the way in which the cachet of the new system of “Living National Treasures” elevated the position of people engaging in “traditional crafts.” The Law for the Protection of Cultural Properties, enacted in 1950, was intended to protect not only tangible cultural properties such as paintings and sculptures, but also intangible cultural heritage invisible to the eye but embodied in practitioners of traditional arts (dance and music) and craft, who spent long years in perfecting their skill. Founded on concepts predating UNESCO’s intangible world cultural heritage designation, Japan’s groundbreaking law was perhaps the first in history to recognize this type of cultural property. The idea may have been engendered by a heightened sense that changes in traditional lifestyle following the experiences of wartime shortages and the postwar occupation would make the continuation of Japanese craft arts uncertain. There were also roots in the wartime maru-gi (persons qualified for the preservation of the skills) ranking system, itself reflecting the belief that Japanese craft technology, refined over long years, was distinctive and special. As a technical officer of the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties, established along with the Protection of Cultural Properties Law in 1950, Koyama Fujio was responsible for designating antiquities as “national treasures” and “important cultural properties.” He also became involved in the selection of “endangered intangible cultural properties to receive measures of assistance” in 1952, when he was assigned to the

200  Kida Takuya newly established Intangible Cultural Properties Division and joined an eight-member screening committee. The other expert members were Katori Hotsuma (1873–1954), metalwork artist; Matsuda Gonroku (1896–1986), lacquer artist; Nishizawa Tekiho (1889–1965), nihonga painter and researcher of Japanese dolls; Noguchi Shinzō (1892–1975), textile artist; Yanagi Sōetsu (1889–1961), Mingei movement leader; Horiguchi Sutemi (1895–1984), architect; and Honma Junji (1904–91), sword expert. In March 1952, the committee named the following techniques in the ceramics field as “endangered intangible cultural properties” associated with particular individuals: Arakawa Toyozō, Shino and Setoguro ware; Ishiguro Munemaro, tenmoku ware; Kaneshige Tōyō, Bizen ware; Katō Tōkurō (1898–1985), Oribe ware; and Katō Hajime (1900–1968), overglaze enamels. Later three more were named: Uno Sōyō (1888–1973), underglaze copper red; Imaizumi Imaemon XII (1897–1975), Iro Nabeshima overglaze enamels; and Tokuda Yasokichi I (1873–1956), Kutani ware. At this point, the proviso “endangered without national support” was associated with “intangible cultural properties” as a condition for selection. In May 1954, however, the Law for the Protection of Cultural Properties was amended to remove the word “endangered.” This marked the beginning of the new “Important Intangible Cultural Property” system.38 The former list of “Endangered Intangible Cultural Properties” was totally retracted. In March 1955, Tomimoto Kenkichi, Hamada Shōji, Arakawa Toyozō, and Ishiguro Munemaro in the ceramics field were designated as holders of “Important Intangible Cultural Property.” That craftsmen designated as holders of “Important Intangible Cultural Property” are commonly referred to as “Living National Treasures” (Ningen kokuhō)39 reflects the transition from an original purpose of protecting craft techniques to a system of honoring individual craftsmen. With the advent of the “Living National Treasure” selection, the establishment of the Japan Crafts Association (Nihon Kōgeikai), and the start of the annual Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, the term “Living National Treasure” became a part of everyday parlance. The Teiten (Nitten) exhibition, the only stage for an individual craftsman in prewar times, lost its supremacy after the war. As the Teiten (Nitten) artists who had previously held sway lost their authority, the postwar Law for the Protection of Cultural Properties (1950) supported the legitimacy of “traditional crafts.” Koyama Fujio described the Japan Crafts Association in the catalogue for the 1959 Contemporary Japanese Ceramic Art Exhibition (held at the ­National Museum of Modern Art) as follows: What in 1955 came to be commonly referred to as “Living National Treasures” is actually an association of craftsmen centered around persons designated as Important Intangible Cultural Properties by the Cultural Properties Protection Committee. Although newly formed, this association is essentially conservative in nature, characterized by

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  201 deference to traditional technology. Conventionally, the classicist and neo-classicist old guard dominates this association, but artists attached to the Nitten exhibitions and other artists with avant-garde inclinations have also started to be included.40 Koyama’s text suggests that he did not necessarily hold all the potters active in the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition in high regard. He distinguished between “neo-classical” (shinkoten-ha) and “classical” (koten-ha) traditional craft potters.41 While the term “traditional art craft” (dentō kōgei) as used today completely conflates the meanings of “classical” and “neo-classical,” the distinction was extremely important for Koyama. The use of such terms as translations of the Japanese words may cause confusion, since “classical” in English refers to classical Greece and Rome— obviously not the intention here. The Japanese word koten, translated as “classical,” indicates artists and artworks that tend towards a revival or re-creation of wares from earlier periods. If “classical” pottery is defined as having attributes of universal appeal throughout time and across national boundaries, then perhaps the reference would be Song dynasty Chinese celadon and white porcelain. With his background as a scholar of ancient Chinese ceramics, Koyama Fujio could have been expected to consider ideal beauty to be the flawlessness of Song ceramics. Indeed, Koyama praised Ding ware and Ru ware as the “acme of human skill.”42 However, he never encouraged Japanese contemporary ceramic artists to aspire to the qualities of Song ceramics. Koyama Fujio’s use of the term “neo-classical” refers to the incorporation of elements of antique Oribe, Shino, Bizen, or Song style wares, such as can be seen in the works of ceramic artists Kitaōji Rosanjin, Ishiguro Munemaro, Arakawa Toyozō, Kaneshige Tōyō, or Fujiwara Kei (1899–1983).43 For Koyama, these works were not copies or imitations but rather unique works by inspired artists. He distinguished these works from “classical” deft copies of Kutani, Kakiemon, or Nabeshima pieces from the Edo period. Koyama did not mention specific names of classicists, but we can suppose he is referring to potters such as Tokuda Yasokichi I, Sakaida Kakiemon XII (1873–1963), Imaizumi Imaemon XII, and Nakazato Tarōemon XII (Muan), who belonged to prestigious pottery lineages based in regional ceramics centers that produced ceramics in traditional styles associated with Kutani, Arita, or Karatsu ware. Commenting, for example, on a work by Nakazato Muan, Koyama wrote, with restraint: “There is nothing to mention of any particular character or facility; it is ordinary (heibon) in style, simple, and one could use it forever without tiring of it.”44 For Koyama, who was well versed in ceramics generally, the difference between “classical” potters, who merely imitated styles of the past, and “neoclassical” potters, who crossed a subtle frontier of uniqueness, was obvious. Others felt differently. When four ceramists—Tomimoto Kenkichi, Hama­da Shōji, Arakawa Toyozō, and Ishiguro Munemaro—were  designated as

202  Kida Takuya “Living National Treasures” in 1955, Yanagi Sōetsu was dissatisfied with the selection of Arakawa and Ishiguro. He had esteemed and collected works by Hamada and Tomimoto even before he formalized the Mingei movement. (Tomimoto disassociated himself from the movement in the mid-1930s.) Yanagi commented that while Hamada and Tomimoto were accomplished artists, Arakawa and Ishiguro were only skilled technicians imitating works of the past.45 Yanagi went so far as to say that the works of Arakawa and Ishiguro were mere second-rate pieces that could not be considered art.46 Koyama, however, had never viewed Arakawa or Ishiguro simply as skilled copyists of works of the past. It was clear and obvious to Koyama, who was well acquainted with antique pieces, that the two were not copyists but rather explorers of new frontiers in modern ceramics. Koyama praised Arakawa Toyozō’s Shino ware tea bowl with crackle (fig. 10.3), submitted to the fourth Japanese Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition in 1957, as follows: This tea bowl is a particularly fine piece among the Shino ware tea bowls that are Arakawa Toyozō’s specialty … The shape of the vessel, its edges, elevation, style, and integrity are all well articulated. What he has achieved is rare, even in antique Shino ware pieces.47 He also praised Ishiguro Munemaro’s jar with Karatsu-style straw-ash glaze (fig. 10.4), from the third Japan Traditional Art Craft Exhibition in 1956: “One never tires of looking at it. It reminds us of mottled Karatsu ware of the past, but I have never seen such a shape or glaze in antique Karatsu wares.”48

Figure 10.3  A rakawa Toyozō, Tea bowl, Shino ware, 1957.  The fourth Japanese ­Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, 9.5  x 12.6  cm. The National ­Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo.

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  203

Figure 10.4  Ishiguro Munemaro, Speckled Karatsu ware jar, 1956. The third ­Japanese Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition, 18.2 x 15.5 cm. Izumi City Shinminato Museum.

As those comments suggest, Koyama Fujio appreciated the subtle way that a work might seem at first glance to be a re-creation of one from the past but, as a unique expression of a contemporary artist, was at once similar to and yet different from its antecedent. Koyama, who was familiar with ceramics from all ages and across all countries, was fascinated by the way contemporary ceramic artists could express and develop a subtle line between sameness and difference. After Koyama resigned in 1961 from the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties in order to take responsibility for the “Einin no tsubo” incident, however, that subtle line became ambiguous. In 1966, while continuing his prolific writing activities, Koyama built a kiln at his home in Kamakura and once again immersed himself in making pottery. It was as if he had chosen to inhabit his own “potter’s paradise.” After Koyama distanced himself from the selection of “Living National Treasures,” potters deemed “classical,” who engaged in production in the long-­established kiln regions, received the designation and came to the forefront as leaders of “traditional crafts.” In such an environment, the prosperity of the “potter’s paradise” might have continued without limit in Japan in the second half of the twentieth century had not the economic transformations following the collapse

204  Kida Takuya of the real estate “bubble” come into play to affect the lives of all Japanese, including their patronage of ceramics. Looking over Koyama Fujio’s activities in the 1950s as a member of the Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties and his involvement with exhibitions of Japanese contemporary ceramics held in Japan and overseas, we see that he was an important mediator influencing the direction of Japanese modern ceramics and the advent of Japan as a “potter’s paradise.” Japanese ceramic art came to prominence at this time and was established in a position of importance among the various traditional craft genres. Koyama, knowledgeable in the history of ceramics from ancient to contemporary times and versed in the contemporary situation internationally, repeatedly and persuasively described the state of Japanese ceramics at the time as a “potter’s paradise” and “pottery kingdom.” Koyama’s involvement with contemporary Japanese ceramics can be regarded as an important factor in the privileged position the genre took among modern craft fields in Japan.

Notes 1 Naitō, “Ōsutoraria, nyūjīrando junkai gendai Nihon bijutsu ten,” 83. 2 A Seto sake jar with the inscription “Second year of the Einin era” (1294), which was designated an Important Cultural Property in 1959 as a work of the Kama­ kura period, later was proven to be a fake made by Katō Tokurō (1898–1985) in 1937. As a result, its designation was cancelled in 1961. Taking responsibility for the incident, Koyama resigned from the Committee for Protection of Cultural Properties that same year. It was a sensational incident because Katō Tōkurō was not only a renowned potter whose Oribe technique was designated as an “endangered intangible cultural property” but was also known as a ceramic historian and author of many books and articles, including Tōki jiten (Ceramics Dictionary), 1937. See Matsui, Einin no tsubo. 3 See Kida, “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi,” 15–35. 4 Koyama, “Hihyōka no sakutō,” 36. 5 Koyama, “Jū-ni dai Nakazato Tarōemon,” 180. 6 Businessmen Takatori Kurō and Furutachi Kyūichi, both living in Karatsu, paid Nakazato Muan to gather old Karatsu ware shards from around the remains of the Handōgame and Hobashira kilns. See Tomioka and Suzuki, Ningen kokuhō Nakazato Muan, 134–36. 7 Kawano, “Hagiyaki ni okeru Miwa-gama to Kyūwa-ō,” 139–40. 8 Koyama, “Ishiguro Munemaro,” 24. 9 Koyama, “Hihyōka no sakutō,” 39. 10 Koyama, Arakawa Toyozō sakutō tenkan mokuroku, 5. 11 Kuhara, “Kyōō-fujin,” 24; Shirasaki, Kitaōji Rosanjin sakuhin zuroku, 394. 12 Koyama, Arakawa Toyozō sakutō tenkan mokuroku. 13 In 1937, the Imperial Art Academy name was changed from Teikoku Bijtsuin to Teikoku Geijutsuin. Originally Tomimoto had belonged to the Kokugakai in opposition to the Teiten system. 14 Nishikawa, Bijutsu oyobi kōgei gijutsu no hozon, 185. 15 See Kida, “Japanese Crafts and Cultural Exchange with the USA in the 1950s,” 381–84. 16 Ono, “Shūsen chokugo no Ishiguro Munemaro,” 61. 17 Nihon bijutsu kōgei 115 (May 1948): 49.

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  205 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

26 27 28 29 30 31

32 33 34 35 36 37

38 39

See National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, Shōwa no Momoyama fukkō. Muraki, “Gendai Nihon tōji ten o miru,” 38–39. Ibid. Ibid. “Furansu e shutchin sareta gendai Nihon tōgei ten,” 40. Shinshō Bijutsu Kōgeikai (later Shinshōkai, now Shinshō Kōgeikai) was a craft artists’ group established in 1947 by Tomimoto Kenkichi after his separation from the Kokugakai group. The craft division of Kokugakai was established by Tomimoto Kenkichi in 1928. It included “folk-craft school” potters such as Hamada Shōji and Kawai Kanjirō. Later, it became a center for folk-craft school potters. The various groups and artists were: 1. Nitten (Céramistes de l’école officielle): Itaya Hazan, Kiyomizu Rokuwa, Kawamura Seizan, Katō Kōbei, Horioka Dōsen, Katō Seizan, Kawai Einosuke, Kusube Yaichi, Yonezawa Sōhō, Miyanohara Ken, Kawamura Kitarō, Kitade Tōjirō, Katō Hajime, Kiyomizu Rokubei, Asami Ryūzō, Yasuhara Yoshiaki, Katō Takigawa, Suzuki Seisei, Miyagawa Michishige. 2. Shinshōkai (Tomimoto et les artistes de la même tendance): Tomimoto Kenkichi, Yamada Tetsu, Kondō Yūzō, Suzuki Kiyoshi, Kanō Mitsuo, Tsuji Shinroku, Taki Kazuo, Uno Sōyō, Nakagawa Taizō, Yagi Issō, Nakajima Kiyoshi. 3. Traditionalists (Céramistes traditionnalistes indépendants): Kawakita Handeishi, Kitaōji Rosanjin, Kaneshige Tōyō, Arakawa Toyozō, Ishiguro Munemaro, Katō Tōkurō, Hineno Sakuzō. 4. Kokugakai (Céramistes du mouvement de rénovation des arts populaires): Kawai Kanjirō, Hamada Shōji, Funaki Michitada. 5. Avant-garde (Céramistes d’avant-garde): Uno Sango, Ōnishi Kinnosuke, Hayashi Yasuo, Yamamoto Shōnen, Yagi Kazuo, Suzuki Osamu, Yamada Hikaru, Kinouchi Yoshi, Isamu Noguchi. Japon: Céramique Contemporaine, Paris: Musée Cernuschi, 1950: 1–12. “Furansu e shutchin sareta gendai Nihon tōgei ten,” 41. Kida, “Japanese Crafts and Cultural Exchange with the USA in the 1950s,” 388–92. Kokusai Bunka (International Culture) 103 (January 1963): 23–24; 104 (February 1963): 21–23. Koyama, “Amerika e okutta gendai no yakimono,” 66. Koyama, Japanese Ceramics. Tomimoto Kenkichi (Shishōkai), Kawai Kanjirō (Kokugakai [folk-craft school]), Hamada Shōji (Kokugakai [folk-craft school]), Kitaōji Rosanjin (independent), Ishiguro Munemaro (Nihon Kōgeikai), Katō Hajime (Nihon Kōgeikai), Kaneshige Tōyō (Nihon Kōgeikai), Kondō Yūzō (Shishōkai), Uno Sōyō (Nihon Kōgeikai), Asami Ryūzō (Nitten), Kanō Mitsuo (Nitten), Shimizu Uichi (Nihon Kōgeikai), Yagi Kazuo (Sōdeisha). The Nihon Kōgeikai (Japan Crafts Association or Japan Kōgei Association) was established in 1955 by Living National Treasures to organize the Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition (Nihon Dentō Kōgei Ten). Koyama, “Wagakuni gendai tōgei no tenbō,” 8. Ibid., 3. Ibid., 5, 7. Koyama, “Nihon tōjishi gaisetsu,” 3, 13. Koyama, “Nihon no yakimono,” 3. NHK broadcast this round-table discussion on January 3, 1964. The discussants were philosopher Tanikawa Tetsuzō (1895–1989), Koyama Fujio, essayist Shirasu Masako (1919–1998), and ceramics collector Honda Shizuo (1898–1999). See Kida, Kōgei to nashonarizumu no kindai, 181–91. The first appearance of the term “ningen kokuhō” (Living National Treasure) was in the January 28, 1955: Mainichi shinbun article “Mitsugorō among 30 traditional artists and craftsmen nominated as Living National Treasures.”

206  Kida Takuya 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

Koyama, “Wagakuni gendai tōgei no tenbō,” 6. Ibid., 3. Koyama, “Chūgoku kotōji gaisetsu,” 38. Koyama, “Wagakuni gendai tōgei no tenbō,” 3. Koyama, “Jū-ni dai Nakazato Tarōemon, hito to sakuhin,” 181. Yanagi, “Zadankai, Jūyō mukei bunkazai (kōgei) o megutte,” 163. Ibid. Koyama, “Zuhan kaisetsu,” 198. Ibid., 199.

References “Furansu e shutchin sareta gendai Nihon tōgei ten” [Modern Japanese ceramics exhibition dispatched to France]. Nihon bijutsu kōgei 162 (April 1952). Kawano Ryōsuke. “Hagiyaki ni okeru Miwa-gama to Kyūwa-ō” [Miwa-kiln and Kyūwa in Hagi]. Ningen-kokuho Miwa Kyūwa: Hagi-yaki ni okeru sono ichi [Living National Treasure, Miwa Kyūwa: His position in Hagi]. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 1983. Kida Takuya. “Japanese Crafts and Cultural Exchange with the USA in the 1950s: Soft Power and John D. Rockefeller III during the Cold War.” Journal of Design History 25, no. 4 (October 2012). ______. “Ōkōchi Masatoshi to Okuda Seiichi: Tōjiki Kenkyūkai/Saikokai/Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo: Taishōki o chūshin ni” [Ōkōchi Masatoshi and Okuda Seiichi: The Tōjiki Kenkyūkai, Saikokai and Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo: Focusing on the Taisho period]. Tōyō Tōji (Oriental Ceramics), 42 (2013). ______. Kōgei to nashonarizumu no kindai: “Nihonteki na mono” no sōshutsu [Craft and nationalism in modern Japan: Creating Japanese-ness]. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2014. Koyama Fujio. Arakawa Toyozō sakutō tenkan mokuroku [Arakawa Toyozō ceramics display]. Osaka: Hankyū, 1941. ______. “Chūgoku kotōji gaisetsu” [A survey of ancient Chinese ceramics]. Sansai 58 (July 1952). ______. “Amerika e okutta gendai no yakimono” [Contemporary pottery sent to America]. Tōsetsu 36 (March 1956). ______. “Nihon tōjishi gaisetsu” [Outline of Japanese ceramics history]. Nihon tōjishi tenbō [Survey of Japanese ceramics history]. Tokyo: Nihon Tōji Kyōkai, 1958. ______. “Zuhan kaisetsu” [Commentary on plates]. Sekai tōji zenshū [Collected works of world ceramics], 16. Tokyo: Kawade Shobō, 1958. ______. “Wagakuni gendai tōgei no tenbō” [A survey of contemporary ceramic art in Japan]. Gendai Nihon no tōgei [Contemporary Japanese ceramic art]. Tokyo: National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, 1959. ______. Japanese Ceramics: From Ancient to Modern Times. Oakland: The Oakland Art Museum, 1961. ______. “Nihon no yakimono” [Japanese ceramics]. Nihon kōgeikai kaihō 29 (July 1964). ______. “Hihyōka no sakutō” [Ceramics by a critic]. Geijutsu shinchō 16, no. 2 (­February 1965). ______. “Ishiguro Munemaro: hito to sakuhin” [Ishiguro Munemaro: Life and works]. Ishiguro Munemaro Sakutō gojussen [Fifty works by Ishiguro Munemaro]. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 1972.

Koyama Fujio and modern Japanese ceramics  207 ______. “Jū-ni dai Nakazato Tarōemon, hito to sakuhin” [Nakazato Tarōemon XII, Life and Works]. Jū-ni dai Nakazato Tarōemon, Karatsu sakuhin shū [Collective works of Nakazato Tarōemon XII]. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1975. Kuhara Tsuneo. “Kyōō-fujin: hito to sakuhin” [Bountiful feast: Life and works]. Kawai Kanjirō sakuhinshū [Works of Kawai Kanjirō]. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 1980. Matsui Kakushin. Einin no tsubo: gisaku no tenmatsu [The Einin vessel: The whole story about the fake]. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun, 1990. Muraki Chii. “Gendai Nihon tōji ten o miru” [On the Contemporary Japanese ­Ceramics Exhibition]. Nihon bijutsu kōgei 157 (November 1951). Naitō Tadashi. “Ōsutoraria, nyūjīrando junkai gendai Nihon bijutsu ten” [Contemporary Japanese art exhibition traveling to Australia and New Zealand]. Tōsetsu 68 (November 1958). National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo. Shōwa no Momoyama fukkō: tōgei kindaika no tenkanten / Modern Revival of Momoyama Ceramics: Turning Point Toward Modernization of Ceramics. Tokyo: The National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, 2002. Nishikawa Tomotake. Bijutsu oyobi kōgei gijutsu no hozon [Preserving skills of arts and crafts]. Tokyo: Kōgei gakkai, 1966. Ono Kimihisa. “Shūsen chokugo no Ishiguro Munemaro” [Ishiguro Munemaro right after World War II]. Tōsetsu 547 (October 1998). Shirasaki Hideo. Kitaōji Rosanjin sakuhin zuroku [Works of Kitaōji Rosanjin]. ­Tokyo: Tokuma shoten, 1972. Tomioka Yukimasa and Suzuki Kenji. Ningen kokuhō Nakazato Muan: Honō no shōgai [Living National Treasure, Nakazato Muan: Life in flame]. Saga Shinbun, 1986. Yanagi Sōetsu. “Zadankai, Jūyō mukei bunkazai (kōgei) o megutte” [Towards craft as important cultural properties]. Geijutsu shinchō 6, no. 8 (August 1955).

Epilogue

11 Found in translation Ceramics and social change Tanya Harrod

This is a response to a remarkable group of chapters, each of which suggests the instability of objects in the condition of modernity, offering unexpected cultural encounters and crossovers. Meghen Jones’s introduction elegantly summarizes their content. My endnote, in turn, uses these chapters, treating ceramic production in Japan in the twentieth century as a jumping-off point to reflect on some of the book’s overarching themes—contact with the West, national identity, and the science and politics of making within a rapidly industrializing society. Japan was special in the context of Asia. It was not available for Occidental interrogation until the 1850s. By the late nineteenth century, while geographically part of the politico-cultural entity known as the Orient, it had not been subjected to the full assault of Orientalism as a system that Europe and North America deployed to dominate, restructure, and control the Far and Middle East and the Indian subcontinent.1 Instead Japan was to construct its own “Oriental Orientalism,” projected onto its peripheral areas and, subsequently, onto its colonies.2 By the early twentieth century, Japan had emerged as an inspiring model of defiance for a large part of the world. Pankaj Mishra opens From the Ruins of Empire, his study of Asian-Western relations, with a dazzling account of the impact of ­Japan’s victory over the Russian navy in the 1905 Battle of Tsushima. The news, he explains, electrified nations and groups who had suffered Western oppression: Excited speculation about the implications of Japan’s success filled the Turkish, Egyptian, Vietnamese, Persian and Chinese newspapers. Newborn babies in Indian villages were named after Japanese admirals. In the United States, the African-American leader W.E.B. Du Bois spoke of a worldwide eruption of “colored pride.” Something akin to this sentiment clearly seized the pacifist poet (and future Nobel laureate) Rabindranath Tagore, who on receiving the news from Tsushima led his students in an impromptu victory march around a little school compound in rural Bengal.3

212  Tanya Harrod From an Occidental perspective, Japan satisfied different expectations. Indeed, more than many places, it was persistently coopted as an imaginative space for the West, principally for artists of all kinds. In 1885 Vincent van Gogh quoted the Goncourt brothers’ admonition: “Japonaiserie forever.”4 For Van Gogh the south of France was a kind of Japan, a place of bright light and sharp definition, resembling the Japanese woodblock prints that he so admired. When Oscar Wilde observed in his 1889 essay “The Decay of Lying” that “[i]n fact, the whole of Japan is a pure invention,” he was only half joking about the multitude of ways in which its islands became the focus for Utopian fantasy.5 Japanese intellectuals were well aware of this mythification of their country. In the late nineteenth century, the radical Meiji era thinker Tokutomi Sohō dismissed Europeans’ passion for Japanese visual culture: What value has the foreigners’ flattery? These foreigners regard Japan as a world’s playground, a museum: they pay their admission and enter because there are so many weird things to see.6 That Japan continues to offer a dream space for artists was made apparent when in 2001 the art history department of the University of East Anglia organized a study day entitled The Japan of the Imagination.7 It turned out to be a memorable, revealing event. The ceramist Ewen Henderson spoke about how he was drawn to make tea bowls although he disliked Anglo-­ Oriental studio pottery. The artist and maker of books Ian Tyson reflected on incorporating Japanese scripts into his work although he could not read Japanese. David Whiting recalled his father, the potter Geoffrey Whiting’s confident use of terms like shibui to conjure up particularly austere forms of beauty. And Edmund de Waal, Geoffrey Whiting’s former apprentice, spoke about Bernard Leach’s compensatory invention of a paradisical ­Japan. Henderson, Tyson, and Geoffrey Whiting had not visited Japan. For them it truly was a place of imagination. De Waal, however, had first gone there in 1991 on a Daiwa scholarship, partly to come to terms with Bernard Leach’s mythologizing. While in Tokyo he saw his great-uncle’s collection of netsuke, which led him later to research his remarkable family history, published in 2010 as The Hare with Amber Eyes.8 It is a fascinating book, the Japanese parts of which can usefully be read alongside the rich literature on Western conceptions of Japan, in particular Christopher Reed’s 2017 Bachelor Japanists: Japanese Aesthetics and Western Masculinities.9 The chapters in Ceramics and Modernity in Japan, by contrast, do not focus on an imagined Japan. A group of American, British, Japanese, and Korean scholars interrogates Japanese ceramics from a Japanese perspective. The issues raised in Ceramics and Modernity in Japan recast our understanding of Japanese ceramics, as well as offering a framework applicable to all cultures in a process of transition. Take, for instance, just one typically ambiguous object by Miyagawa Kōzan, whose work is discussed in detail by Clare Pollard in her chapter in this volume.

Ceramics and social change  213

Figure 11.1.  Miyagawa Kōzan, Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave, Yokohama, 1905–1910. Porcelain with turquoise and brown underglaze, impressed mark “Makuzu” for the workshop, 22.2  x 15.9  cm. Presented by Lieutenant-Colonel Kenneth Dingwall DSO with N ­ ational Art Collections Fund support. Acquired by Dingwall at the ­Japan-British Exhibition held at White City, London, 1910. © Victoria and Albert ­Museum, London.

Kōzan’s Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave is currently on display in the Victoria and Albert Museum’s Japanese Gallery (fig. 11.1). Together with another piece by Kōzan, a vase and cover decorated with dragons and lotus motifs supported on a stand in the form of an elephant’s head, this porcelain eye catcher, in which bear cubs appear to shelter under a canopy of icicles, was accepted, reluctantly, at a moment when it had become museum policy not to buy contemporary Japanese work. From a museum perspective Kōzan’s work lacked authenticity, being remote from the interests of curators like AJ Koop who were chiefly concerned with the Edo period (1615–1868). Buying mainly in Europe, Koop and his colleagues focused on historic material that was open to minute taxonomic classification, making a wider engagement with Japanese culture unnecessary. Bizarrely, sword fittings emerged as the perfect objects of study for these British scholars.10

214  Tanya Harrod By contrast, Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave was, confusingly, a Japanese object inspired by the study of contemporary Royal Copenhagen ceramics. Kōzan’s lidded vase on an elephant base, presented to the museum by Lieutenant-Colonel Kenneth Dingwall DSO, was equally eclectic, owing something to Chinese export wares and to Sèvres. When Kōzan made work designed to appeal to Western consumers he worked appropriately—externalizing ornament, sometimes by using high relief or, in the case of his bear cubs, detaching them from the pot form entirely. In effect, he offered a critique of Occidental taste by identifying it with a relatively crude naturalism. At other times he sought to educate: his vases shown at the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893 were decorated with low relief examples of Chinese and Japanese ceramics. Kōzan operated apparently successfully in the context of two cultures. Nonetheless, an obituary for Kōzan dismissed his work for Western audiences as “showy” and focused rather on the artist’s Japanese and Asian-style work.11 Social change, the demands of trade, and national pride led Kōzan to create a category of objects made to be consumed elsewhere. Being made for the tastes, markets, and ideologies of other economies, his work for the Occident might be designated tourist art. As a genre these objects did not have a meaningful role within Japanese culture beyond their technical bravura. But Kōzan’s Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave does not quite fit the tourist art definition, which invariably offers a measure of technical or decorative archaism—whether in the form of commoditized Pueblo pots made in the area around Santa Fe in New Mexico from the early twentieth century, or East African Makonde carvings created for “First World” purchasers in the 1950s, or the children’s folk costumes available at airports all over the world.12 In Baudrillard’s Système des objets, tourist art, in the form of the exotic souvenir, is perceived as “warm.”13 Its function is to contrast reassuringly with the “cold,” standardized modern artifact more familiar to the consumer. But the ceramics made specifically for the Western world in Meiji Japan often resist both binaries, being not necessarily redolent of the past nor coldly standardized. If, in the view of the curators at the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1910, Vase in the Form of Two Polar Bears Inside a Cave was not Japanese enough, this was because the West often rejects hybridity when it is offered by non-Western cultures. Today such restrictions do not embrace a country like Japan, seen as an artistic center for avant-garde work. But, for example, the varied countries of sub-Saharan Africa are still expected to offer specifically “African” qualities in their art. Western curators and art critics set the standard for this “African-ness,” which can lead to odd outcomes. In 1989 the ambitious Paris exhibition Magiciens de la Terre held at the Centre Pompidou offered a mixture of avant-garde international art and outsider and vernacular art mostly from “Third World” countries, art from what were called the “peripheries” in the catalogue.14 In the context of

Ceramics and social change  215 Ghana, the curator Jean-Hubert Martin ignored art-school-trained artists in favor of Kane Kwei, one of the many coffin makers whose colorful personalized balsa wood creations line the roadsides outside Accra. Thus, a folk artist represented Ghana in Magiciens de la Terre. Japan, on the other hand, was represented by three artists. These included Teshigahara Hiroshi, whose Passage des bambous was a poetic response to Japanese vernacular skills. Teshigahara may well have been playing with Western expectations of “Japanese art” in the late twentieth century, but he was a distinguished film director and the son and heir of an avant-garde ikebana artist, part of the progressive Japanese art world. If in sub-Saharan Africa what qualifies as “art” is currently skewed to Western tastes, nonetheless it is possible to beat Western curators at their own game. For example, for his 2002 touring show Kumasi Junction, originated at the Oriel Mostyn Gallery in North Wales, the Ghanaian artist Atta Kwame exhibited his abstract paintings alongside the output of commercial sign painters working in the city of Kumasi, where he teaches at the College of Art.15 Kwame sought to complicate an understanding of the various art worlds of Kumasi. But he also demonstrated his awareness of the West’s propensity for seeking out the “authentic” vernacular, one answered by his inclusion of non-academic art, the work of local sign painters. In the Meiji era, the drive to modernization that encouraged ceramists like Kōzan to make technical advances and offer narrative ceramics to a Western audience also led to the adoption of Western art historical taxonomies. Terms like bijutsu (fine art) and kōgei (craft) mirrored Western hierarches and were employed in the context of international exhibitions and in art historical publications like Histoire de l’art du Japon, published in connection with the Paris International Exhibition of 1900.16 But these categorical limitations were also resisted, and by the Taisho and early Showa eras cultural nationalism made such distinctions less important. Ceramics was confirmed in its high status by its inclusion in the Teiten (the Imperial Art Academy Exhibition) from 1927. In some ways Japan’s more inclusive aesthetic framework paralleled and anticipated Western visual modernism’s emphasis on formalism across many genres of art. It was in Japan, inspired by the ambient culture and by Clive Bell’s recently published Art (1910), that the artist Bernard Leach asked in 1911: “Why should not a porcelain vase be as beautiful as a picture?”17 He was echoing Bell’s “No one ever doubted that a Sung pot or a Romanesque church was as much an expression of emotion as any picture that was ever painted.”18 By the 1930s there were other socio-political East-West parallels. Ideological nativism can be identified simultaneously in ­Japan and in certain European countries, suggesting the impact of a global economy in crisis and a generalized collapse of liberal values after World War I. A return to the classical and the vernacular and a drive towards autarchy in Italy was mirrored by a largely symbolic interest in craft guilds and folk art in Germany.19

216  Tanya Harrod In Britain, a search for “English” ceramics (taking in slipware, Josiah Wedgwood’s original designs, and purely utilitarian ceramics for the laboratory) suggested a search for cultural identity in a period of political polarization.20 Ceramics and Modernity in Japan alerts us to the sheer sophistication of ceramic understanding in Japan, among both producers and consumers, among makers and tastemakers, and the inevitable politicization of this knowledge. Even if negotiations were made with Western value systems, a figure like the writer and aesthete Okuda Seiichi, discussed by Seung Yeon Sang in this volume, offered a highly complex reframing of ceramic aesthetics in the Taisho era.21 He may have rejected the reliance of the tea masters on pedigree and provenance, but he also disdained Orientalist approaches to ceramic history in favor of a Japanese-led appreciation of tōyō (Asian) ceramics that took in China and Korea as part of an Asia dominated by Japan. Going back to the Meiji Restoration of 1868 and the concomitant drive to modernization, in the area of ceramics it was decided that the tacit knowledge of Japan’s traditional workshops needed to be supplemented. Technical schools were set up, in particular the Tokyo Vocational School in 1881 (after several name changes, from 1929 the Tokyo Institute of Technology) and the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Center founded in 1896. Glaze and clay body tests were conducted using scientific formulas, Western machinery such as ball mills was introduced, as was the use of plaster molds to enable slipcasting. Seger cones were imported to monitor firing temperatures. The focus on ceramic engineering enabled the production of refractory bricks and tiles, Western-style tablewares, acid-resistant laboratory equipment, and electrical insulators, all products required in modern urban Japan. The creation of an advanced ceramics industry in Japan brought with it a reaction, reminding us that the chapters in Ceramics and Modernity in Japan provide a series of snapshots of modernity speeded up, taking place over relatively few decades. Thus we discover that Hamada Shōji and Kawai Kanjirō, two of the greatest artist potters of the twentieth century, trained as ceramic engineers in Tokyo and went on to teach at the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute.22 As with Britain’s studio pottery movement, their turn to small workshops was a critique of industrial ceramics. These two engineers went on to help found the Japanese Mingei movement, a validation of folk vernacular. But Hamada and Kawai differed from Britain’s leading studio potters—figures like Bernard Leach, Michael Cardew, William Staite Murray, and Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie—in that they understood the science of ceramics. As a result they were far more efficient producers, as Leach was to be reminded on his 1934–35 visit to Japan (fig. 11.2).23 ­Hamada helped Leach set up his pottery at St Ives in 1920, and a former student from the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Center, Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke, came to St Ives to build a new climbing kiln and a small updraft kiln as well as giving lectures on ceramic science.24

Ceramics and social change  217

Figure 11.2.  Bernard Leach and Hamada Shōji opening a joint kiln with M ­ atsumoto Sono at Mashiko, Japan, ca. 1934. © Pitzhanger Manor & Gallery, Ealing, London.

Here the East-West interactions become complex and unexpected. ­ atsubayashi’s technical understanding did not fit with Bernard Leach’s M own Orientalist vision of Japan. In a series of letters, Leach urges Matsu­ bayashi to remain true to what Leach himself saw as the essence of Japanese culture: “I say to you with entire sincerity, you are looking on the busy surface of fact too much; knowing my limitations full well I do say to you, ‘Go deep.’ I believe your Zen priest will say the same.”25 Meanwhile ­Matsubayashi’s family was to send Leach a pot mill and a water motor (the latter made by a firm in New York). These were machines that would have been readily available in Britain, but for Leach anything to do with the ceramics industry in the six towns of Stoke-on-Trent was anathema, the place in his view a “commercial scientific graveyard.”26 Leach preferred to get his technology via Japan, even if he complained to his friend the Japanese philosopher Yanagi Sōetsu that he found Matsubayashi’s “detailed and exact mind” out of step with his own “impulses and vague intuitions.”27 It was two women pupils at St Ives, Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie and her partner Ada Mason, who kept detailed notes of Matsubayashi’s St Ives lectures. Interestingly, Cardew and Leach found the science impenetrable, Orientalism turned on its head. In 1942, Michael Cardew was in Ghana

218  Tanya Harrod trying to run a wartime ceramics factory outside Accra. On leave in 1944, he hurried to Stoke-on-Trent to learn from Harry Webb, Principal of Stoke-onTrent Technical College. He used the library there to acquaint himself with Seger cones and finally went to see Pleydell-Bouverie. There he carefully copied out the notes she had taken during Matsubayashi’s lectures all those years ago in 1924.28 In Japan, technological advances and an embrace of some Western taxonomies did not mean an abandonment of a historically rich ceramic language. For example, a proper appreciation of the radical work of the postwar Kyoto-­based Sōdeisha group requires an understanding of the language and symbolism of East Asian glazes, in particular the group’s use of the white slip found on Song dynasty Cizhou wares and on Korean Joseon period pots. Sōdeisha member Yagi Kazuo’s famous piece Mr. Samsa’s Walk employed a wood-ash glaze that would have been instantly recognizable to his fellow potters and to connoisseurs. But the piece was also inspired by the unglazed stoneware of Isamu Noguchi, an American artist with Japanese connections.29 Inevitably Noguchi’s relationship with Japanese ceramics was far from straightforward. The illegitimate son of a cultivated Bryn Mawr graduate, Leonie Gilmour, and of Yone Noguchi, a well-known Japanese poet, he returned to Japan in 1931 as an acknowledged American sculptor on a Guggenheim travel grant. Noguchi was in search of his roots. Tang funerary sculptures seen in China were a predictable interest, but he also discovered the archaism and bold directness of Japanese prehistoric haniwa figures. He may have been the first person from either East or West to appreciate them as aesthetic objects rather than as archaeological evidence. In 1931 Noguchi made a handful of portrait heads in terracotta and some remarkable slip-cast unglazed vessels and sculptural pieces, the most striking being the abstract stacked The Queen, a piece that morphed his study of haniwa with Brancusian monumentality. But his deeper engagement with ceramics came on a return visit to a defeated, demoralized Japan in the early 1950s. Within Japan he inspired the Sōdeisha group to work with greater freedom. But by 1952 he was regarded as not having a deep enough understanding of Japanese ceramic history, of quoting it too playfully, in fact, of appropriating non-Western art for his own creative ends.30 Noguchi’s uncertain reception in Japan reminds us of the sophistication of Japan’s engagement with ceramics and the social and political implications of this engagement. There may appear to be a universal quality to ceramic practice, a kind of technological comradeship, especially among studio potters. Japan exposes the superficiality of that construct. Nor does Japan offer a conveniently evolutionary history of its ceramic art as is available in Britain, France, and Central Europe. Ceramics and Modernity in ­Japan does allow us, however, to get closer to a series of entangled objects and to the social life of things in a culture where modernization went hand in hand with a careful parsing of ­Western aesthetics and where a phenomenological response to ceramics defied Western taxonomies.

Ceramics and social change  219

Notes 1 Although Edward Said’s Orientalism has been much disputed, I do not apologize for employing his representation of Orientalism as a tool of imperialism and Empire. For a revisionist view with art as its focus see Mackenzie, Orientalism. 2 This useful phrase has been coined by Kikuchi, Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory, xvii. 3 Mishra, From the Ruins of Empire, 2. 4 Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, end of November, 1885, in Roskill, The Letters of Van Gogh, 244. 5 Wilde, The Decay of Lying, 55. 6 Quoted in Guth, Art, Tea, and Industry, 167. 7 Organized by this writer and Veronica Sekules, The Japan of the Imagination, Sainsbury Centre for the Visual Arts, University of East Anglia, March 7, 1996, coincided with Swords of the Samurai, an exhibition on loan from the British Museum, February 6 – June 9, 1996. 8 De Waal, The Hare with Amber Eyes. 9 Reed, Bachelor Japanists. 10 Earle, “The Taxonomic Obsession,” 867. 11 See this volume, chapter 2, Clare Pollard, “Tradition, modernity, and national identity: Celadon production at the Makuzu ceramic workshop 1870–1916.” 12 On tourist art see Graburn, Ethnic and Tourist Art. On Makonde carving see Museum of Modern Art, Oxford, Makonde, and the artist Eddie Chambers’ ­attack on the collection in Art Monthly 129, September 1989. On Pueblo pottery see Vincentelli, Women and Ceramics, 65–76. 13 Quoted in Stewart, On Longing, 146. 14 Martin, Magiciens de la Terre. For a debate on Magiciens de la Terre, see the special issue of Third Text 6, Spring 1989. 15 Oriel Mostyn Gallery, Kumasi Junction. 16 Commission impériale du Japon à l’Exposition universelle de Paris, 1900, Histoire de l’art du Japon. 17 Leach, Beyond East and West, 63. 18 Bell, Art, 58. 19 See Lamonaca, “A ‘Return to Order,’” and Heskett, “Design in Inter-War Germany.” 20 Harrod, Michael Cardew, 120–22. 21 In this volume see chapter 7, Seung Yeon Sang, “Okuda Seiichi and the new language of ceramics in Taisho (1912–1926) Japan.” 22 In this volume see chapter 5, Maezaki Shinya, “Unifying science and art: The Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute (1896–1920) and ceramic art education during the Taisho era.” 23 Leach paid a 15-month visit to Japan in 1934–35, staying with Hamada on several occasions. Hamada provided a young thrower to make larger pieces under Leach’s direction. At Mashiko, Leach made some exceptional pots in the beneficent atmosphere of Hamada’s pottery. 24 See Maezaki, “Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke and British Studio Pottery 1924– 1928,” 117–48. 25 Ibid., 138. 26 Cooper, Bernard Leach, 192. 27 Copy letter, Bernard Leach to Yanagi Sōetsu, October 4, 1924, Leach Papers, 6538, Crafts Study Centre, University for the Creative Arts, Farnham, UK. 28 Harrod, Michael Cardew, 190–91. 29 See in this volume chapter 9, Louise Allison Cort, “Veiled references: The role of glaze in Japanese avant-garde ceramics.” 30 Winther-Tamaki, “The Ceramic Art of Isamu Noguchi,” 80–81.

220  Tanya Harrod

References Bell, Clive. Art. London: Chatto & Windus, 1914. Chambers, Eddie. “Makonde African sculpture.” Art Monthly no. 129 (September 1989): 18–20. Commission impériale du Japon à l’Exposition universelle de Paris, 1900. Histoire de l’art du Japon. Paris: M. de Brunoff, 1900. Cooper, Emmanuel. Bernard Leach: Life & Work. London and New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003. De Waal, Edmund. The Hare with Amber Eyes: A Hidden Inheritance. London: Chatto & Windus, 2010. Earle, Joe. “The Taxonomic Obsession: British Collectors and Japanese Objects, 1852–1986.” The Burlington Magazine 128, no. 5 (December 1986). Graburn, Nelson H., ed. Ethnic and Tourist Art. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976. Guth, Christine M.E. Art, Tea, and Industry: Masuda Takashi and the Mitsui Circle. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993. Harrod, Tanya. The Last Sane Man: Michael Cardew, Modern Pots, Colonialism and the Counterculture. London and New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012. Heskett, John. “Design in Inter-War Germany.” In Designing Modernity: The Arts of Reform and Persuasion 1885–1945, edited by Wendy Kaplan. London: Thames & Hudson, 1995. Kikuchi, Yuko. Japanese Modernisation and Mingei Theory: Cultural Nationalism and Oriental Orientalism. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004. Lamonaca, Marianne. “A ‘Return to Order’: Issues of the Vernacular and Classical in Italian Inter-War Design.” In Designing Modernity: The Arts of Reform and Persuasion 1885–1945, edited by Wendy Kaplan. London: Thames & Hudson, 1995. Leach, Bernard. Beyond East and West: Memoirs, Portraits & Essays. London: Faber & Faber, 1978. Mackenzie, John M. Orientalism: History, Theory and the Arts. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995. Maezaki Shinya. “Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke and British Studio Pottery 1924– 1928: Letters from Bernard Leach, Michael Cardew, Katharine Pleydell-Bouverie and Ada Mason.” English Ceramic Circle: Transactions 22, 2011. Martin, Jean-Hubert. Magiciens de la Terre. Paris: Editions du Centre Pompidou, 1989. Mishra, Pankaj. From the Ruins of Empire: The Revolt Against the West and the Remaking of the Orient. London: Allen Lane, 2012. Museum of Modern Art. Makonde: Wooden Sculpture from East Africa from the Malde Collection. Oxford: Museum of Modern Art, 1989. Oriel Mostyn Gallery. Kumasi Junction. Llandudno: Oriel Mostyn Gallery, 2002. Reed, Christopher. Bachelor Japanists: Japanese Aesthetics and Western Masculinities. New York: Columbia University Press, 2017. Roskill, Mark, ed. The Letters of Van Gogh. New York: Atheneum Books, 1963. Said, Edward. Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient. New York: Pantheon Books, 1978. Stewart, Susan. On Longing: Narrative of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1993.

Ceramics and social change  221 Vincentelli, Moira. Women and Ceramics: Gendered Vessels. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000. Wilde, Oscar. The Decay of Lying. London: Syrens, 1995 [1889]. Winther-Tamaki, Bert. “The Ceramic Art of Isamu Noguchi: A Close Embrace of the Earth.” In Isamu Noguchi and Modern Japanese Ceramics, edited by Louise Allison Cort and Bert Winther-Tamaki. Washington, DC: The Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; and Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 2003.

Index

Note: italic page numbers refer to figures and page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. 7 & 5 Society 113, 122 Abiko 111 Akatsuchi group 71, 74, 83; see also Kusube Yaichi; Yagi Issō Alcock, Rutherford 6 Ando-mura 146, 159−60 Aoki Mokubei 24, 26, 92 Arai Kin’ya 80, 84 Arakawa Toyozō 189, 193−8, 200−2, 202 Arita region 4, 69, 94, 201; celadon ware 24; Gottfried Wagener 8; tableware 13, 44−5, 50–1; workshops in 9, 41−2, 52 art craft see bijutsu kōgei Art Deco 74, 80, 82–3 Art Nouveau 31, 69, 73−5, 96 Arts and Crafts movement 6, 121; amateurism 116; Bernard Leach and 112, 114, 122; ceramists controlling all aspects of production 10; Tomimoto Kenkichi 144, 148–9 Asahi pottery 99; see also Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke Asakawa Noritaka and Takumi 137, 157−60 Awata stoneware 28 Bauhaus 121 Bell, Clive 120−1, 215 bijutsu kōgei 6, 11, 31, 69−70, 72, 189, 215 Billington, Dora 113 Bing, Siegfried 69 Bizen style, Bizen region 9, 192, 195, 200−1 Braden, Nora 123

Buddhism, Buddhist sites 23, 55−6, 172 buncheong ware 74, 76, 79−81, 135, 158, 171−3; see also Korean ceramics Bunten 70–1, 152, 189, 194; see also Teiten Cardew, Michael 99, 115, 117, 123, 216−18 celadon 78−9, 79, 93; association with Chinese ceramics 172, 201; expanding interest 80; Hamada Shōji’s tests 96; Korean and Korean-style 9, 25, 80, 135, 157−8; Miyagawa Kōzan 13, 32, 33, 34; Miyanaga Tōzan I 78, 78; Yagi Kazuo 178; see also Makuzu workshop Ceramic Studies Society see Tōjiki Kenkyūkai ceramics, Japanese terms for 5 Ceramics of the East Association 86 Cézanne, Paul 119, 151 chanoyu 2, 129, 157 China, identity relative to Japan 28, 31, 77, 118, 135, 137−8, 216 Chinese ceramics 23−4, 26−7, 32, 32, 35, 73−4, 77, 79, 118−20, 131, 139, 160, 218; archaeological contexts 76, 135, 192, 192; celadon 23−4, 35, 78, 172; Chinese-style Western wares 25; Chinoiserie 118; classical styles 9, 23, 28, 170−4; early Chinese ceramics 6, 118, 201; glazes 14, 25, 104, 111, 113, 179; George Eumorfopoulos 115, 118; Hamada Shōji’s uses of 13, 111, 118; historical models 26−9, 54−6, 55, 86, 115−16, 177, 198; exports to

224 Index Japan and the West 35, 44, 90, 117, 119, 135, 138, 214; Koyama Fujio 189; Makuzu workshop 23; metal vessels 83; motifs and patterns 75−6, 78, 174, 176; painted by Umehara Ryūzaburō 152–3, 153; prestige of 23−4, 26, 28, 31, 35, 120, 138; Reginald Wells 113; the study of 137, 191−2, 192; William Staite Murray 122; see also Cizhou ware; Han period; Ming period; Qing period; Song period; Tang period Chōkian Giryō 26 chrysanthemum 29, 46, 50, 50 Cizhou ware 14, 76, 79, 135, 171−4, 176, 184, 218 collecting and collectors 4, 35, 50, 95, 117; Chinese and Korean works collected 9, 23, 35, 76, 115, 150; Edmund de Waal 212; Eric MilnerWhite 116; Frank Brinkley 27; George Eumorfopoulos 115, 118, 136−7; Japanese collectors 23, 128−33, 135−9, 156−8, 172, 177, 190−2, 195; Matsudaira Fumai 133; publications for collectors 2; Sèvres 47; Shōsōin imperial collection 13, 44, 47, 52, 55−7; Sir Percival David 136, 190, 190; tea aficionados 7; Western collectors 69, 114, 116−18, 120−1; William Winkworth 116; Yanagi Sōetsu 202 colonialism 13, 135, 138, 150, 156, 159−61, 211 Colored Jar Society see Saikokai Committee for the Protection of Cultural Properties 12, 189−90, 196, 199, 200, 203−4 Confucianism 26, 156 Cox, George J. 113 critics, critical reception of ceramic art 6, 114, 152, 194, 198, 214; art vs. craft 6; Charles Marriot 115, 122; Frank Rutter 120; Hamada Shōji’s reviews 114−23; Herbert Read 120; Nakata Mitsuo 148, 150; negative criticism of Japanese ceramics 9, 24−5, 31, 69, 92; Okakura Kakuzō 29; PG Konody 118; Roger Fry 119, 122; Shioda Makoto 29; Watanabe Soshū 149; William McCance 115 Cubism 174, 176 daimyo 4, 8−10, 12, 129−30, 133, 135, 139 de Waal, Edmund 149, 212

Dentō Kōgei Ten see Nihon Dentō Kōgei Ten Derain, André 119−20 earthenware 22, 24, 109, 113−15, 120−1, 177−8, 181 Edo period 6, 9, 12, 92, 130, 134, 193, 201, 213; classifications of art and craft industries 31; role of emperor 42−3, 45; tableware 50−1, 54; trade during 90 Ernst, Max 173 Eumorfopoulos, George A. 115, 117−18, 136−7 Exposition Universelle 10, 29, 30, 31−2, 51, 69, 75, 215 Fauve pottery 119 Fenollosa, Ernest Francisco 138, 160 folk craft movement see Mingei movement Friesz, Orthon 119 Fry, Roger 119−22 Fujie Eikō 93−4, 94, 96, 99 Fujii Tatsukichi 71, 75 Fujiwara Kei 201 Fukagawa Seiji 41 Funaki Michitada 195 Gauguin, Paul 119, 151−3 Girieud, Pierre 119 glazes 2, 26−9, 73, 78, 81−3, 202, 218; avant-garde 14, 120, 169; Bernard Leach and Hamada Shōji 111−14, 116; Chinese and Chinese-inspired 14, 31, 111; focus of artists 34−5; overglaze 92, 97, 149, 194, 200; science of 8−9, 14, 23−5, 33, 94−6, 99−104, 216; Tomimoto Kenkichi 146, 146, 147, 148−50, 158; transmutation glazes 25, 73, 79; underglaze 28−9, 41, 45, 50−2, 50, 53, 54, 54, 81, 97, 98, 149, 159, 200, 213; unglazed works 170−1, 177−82; wood-ash-based 170, 182, 218; see also celadon Gojōzaka 173, 176, 180−1 Goryeo period 9, 23, 78−80, 116, 135, 157−8, 172 Great Kantō Earthquake 116, 191 Hamada Shōji 7, 92, 102, 123−4, 193, 195, 216; and Bernard Leach 109−12, 114−19, 123−4, 216−7, 217; exhibitions 114−19, 121−3, 197−8;

Index  225 Living National Treasure 200−2; Mingei movement 104, 123; technical school studies and experiments 91, 95−6, 100−1 Han period 23, 55, 135 haniwa figures 218 Henderson, Ewen 212 Hepworth, Barbara 113, 122 Hineno Sakuzō 195 Hirado porcelain 27 Hizen ware 10 Honma Junji 200 Horiguchi Sutemi 200 Iga kiln, Iga ware 177, 196 ikebana 2, 215 Imaizumi Imaemon XII 200−1 Imari porcelain 28 Imperial Art Academy Exhibition see Teiten Imperial Household Agency, Imperial Household Ministry 11, 40, 42, 44−7, 49, 51−2, 56, 70 imperialism 8, 55–8, 138, 145, 161 Institute of Oriental Ceramics see Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo Iro Nabeshima enamels see Nabeshima ware Ishiguro Munemaro 173, 184, 191, 193−5, 197−8, 203; described by Yagi Kazuo 172; legitimizing by Koyama Fujio 189; life of poverty 193; Living National Treasure 193, 200−2 Itaya Hazan 71−2, 86, 96, 99, 104, 198−9 Itō Suiko 83, 85, 99 Itō Tōzan I 96, 97 Itō Tōzan II 71−2, 74, 99 Itō Tōzan III 72, 80, 83 Jagatani potters’ district 191 Japan Art Association 27, 31 Japan Craft Art Association 72 Japan Crafts Association 12, 200 Japanese government support 10−11 Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition 12, 194−5, 202, 202 Japonisme 29, 69−70, 118, 135, 212 Joseon period 10, 79−80, 145, 150, 156−61, 171−2, 218 Kagawa Katsuhiro 33 Kakiemon ware 9, 131−2, 131, 134−5, 201

Kamakura 56−7, 203 Kaneshige Tōyō 195, 200−1 Kantō region 86 Karatsu region 192−3, 195, 201−2, 203 Katō Hajime 200 Katō Tōkurō 200 Katori Hotsuma 200 Kawahara Noritatsu 31 Kawai Kanjirō 117−18, 173, 193, 198, 216; exhibitions 198; technical studies 91, 92, 93, 95, 102, 102, 104, 111 Kawai Unosuke 198 Kawakita Handeishi 195 Kawamura Kitarō 83−4, 99 Kawamura Seizan 72−3 Kenzan see Ogata Kenzan Kenzan-style ware 23, 25; see also Ogata Kenzan Ki-Seto 196 Kikuchi Samatarō 96 kiln sites 3, 135, 139, 159, 191–2, 192, 195 kilns 1−2, 24, 191−3, 203; Bernard Leach’s 99, 111−12, 123, 216, 217; Chinese and Korean 23, 139, 159, 172, 192; climbing kilns 7, 99−101, 181, 216; coal-fired 8, 94; domain kilns 8, 10, 50; Hamada Shōji’s 7; kiln research 95−6, 100−1, 103, 198; Koyama Fujio’s 203; Numata Ichiga’s 177; Tomimoto Kenkichi’s 146; wood-fired 177, 180−1 Kinkōzan Sōbei VII 93, 93, 96, 97, 98 Kiryū Kōshō Kaisha 11, 27 Kitaōji Rosanjin 9, 193−8, 201 Kiyomizu Rokubei V 71−3, 76, 96, 99, 103−4 Kiyomizu Rokubei VI 73, 73, 76, 77, 77 Kiyomizu Rokuwa 198 Klee, Paul 14, 173 kōgei 6−7, 31, 70, 215 Kokugakai group 197−8 Komori Shinobu 91, 92, 104 Kondō Yūzō 79, 79, 150, 198 Korea, Korean art and ceramics 9, 44, 74, 76−81, 115−16, 135, 139, 145, 150, 157, 171−4, 177, 193, 195, 218; Japanese regard for 13, 23−4, 33−5, 86, 138, 156−8, 160; Mingei movement 10; study and interpretations of 135, 137−9, 156, 158−61, 198, 216; see also Goryeo; Joseon Kōransha 41, 45, 51, 54

226 Index Koyama Fujio 2, 12, 14, 172, 190−3, 190, 192; as a potter 193, 195; exhibition organizer 189−90, 195−8, 204; legitimizing historic ceramic artists 189, 199; mediating cultural exchange 196 Kuroda Seiki 71, 111 Kusube Yaichi 71−2, 74, 74, 83, 84, 99, 198 Kutani region 69, 191, 194, 200−1 Kyoto ceramics 42, 50, 74, 170−2, 216, 218; ceramic research 91−6, 99, 101, 103; exhibitions 28, 69−74, 80, 169, 174; Hamada Shōji 109, 111, 123; influence of metal craft in 13, 73−5, 77, 80−4, 86; innovation and evolution 13, 69−70, 75, 81, 86, 103; negative views about Kyoto wares 69; potters and workshops 9, 44, 69−72, 170, 176−8, 191, 193 Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute 13, 71, 91, 92, 93−6, 177, 216; role in modernizing ceramic art 92; establishment of training center 99; see also Hamada Shōji Kyoto City College of Arts 103 Kyoto City School of Art and Craft 71, 101, 171, 177 Kyoto City University of Arts 103 Kyoto National Museum 172, 177 Kyushu 5, 8, 24, 101 lacquer 48, 84, 148, 189, 195, 200 Law for the Protection of Cultural Properties 12, 199−200 Leach, Bernard, and Leach Pottery 10, 99−100, 121−4, 145, 147, 149, 199, 212, 215; Arts and Crafts 122; decline in critical reception 122−3; Hamada Shōji 109−12, 114−19, 123−4, 216−7, 217; Korean ceramics 156−8; PostImpressionism and primitivism 152−4, 154, 155; students 99 Living National Treasures 4, 12, 197, 199−200, 202−3; establishment and designation of 14, 189−90, 193−4; see also Koyama Fujio Maillol, Aristide 145, 150−2, 151, 156 majolica 97, 100, 121 Makuzu workshop 9, 13, 213; constant adaptation 22, 25, 29, 35; decorated ware 24; interactions with the West 23; see also celadon; Miyagawa Kōzan I

Marriot, Charles 115−17, 122, 124 Martin, Robert Wallace 112 Masaki Naohiko 71 Mashiko pottery 123−4, 217 Mason, Ada 217 Matisse, Henri 119 Matsubayashi Tsurunosuke 99−102, 100, 123, 216−18 Matsuda Gonroku 200 Matsuo Gisuke 27 Meiji era 13, 69, 73, 80, 96, 128−9; categories of art and craft production 6−7, 31−2; exhibitions 3−4, 28; government patronage 4, 10−11, 21, 26−9, 90; increase in use of ceramic wares 10; imperial porcelain 13; rapid modernization 3−4, 8, 21−4, 27, 90, 198, 215−16; relationship toward outside world 8, 35, 139, 214; trade 3, 10−11, 22 Michibayashi Toshimasa 82 Ming period 25, 74, 82, 173 mingei 4–5 Mingei movement 2, 10, 104, 200, 202, 216; artists of the movement 4, 202; time period 5; establishment of a museum 123; ideology 148, 157; see also Hamada Shōji; Kawai Kanjirō; Yanagi Sōetsu Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce 11, 57, 70−1, 96, 99 Mino region 2, 192−3, 195 Minton 44, 47 Miwa Kyūsetsu 193, 195 Miyagawa Hanzan 29, 34−5 Miyagawa Kōzan I 13, 30; establishment of Mazuku workshop 8, 21; style of and influences on work 23, 26, 32, 33; 35, 212−15, 213; views on modernization 24; see also celadon; Satsuma ware Miyanaga Tōzan I 34, 78, 78, 82, 82, 96 Miyanohara Ken 86 Mizoguchi Kenji 1, 1 Mizumachi Wasaburō 195 modernism 7, 13−14, 21, 86, 109, 145−6; definitions and principles of 3−4, 42, 146, 148−9, 152, 211; perceived modernism of Korean ceramics 156−8, 161; Roger Fry 119−22; Japanese 2−3, 7−8, 24, 35, 86, 90, 145, 182, 189, 194 modernization 21, 42, 86, 91–2, 215–16, 218; changes wrought on ceramics 2–4, 14, 75, 132; in Korea 160–1;

Index  227 policies supporting 24, 27, 78, 92−3, 95, 215−16 Momoyama ceramics 2−3, 9, 97, 157, 193, 195 Morino Kako 82 Morris, William 6, 71, 112 Mortlake Pottery 113 Mr. Samsa’s Walk 169−71, 169, 174, 176−9, 182, 218; see also Yagi Kazuo Mukei Group 80, 83−4 Museum of Modern Art, New York 197 Nabeshima ware 24, 35, 50, 131−2, 134−5, 200−1 Nagasaki 45, 52, 90, 94 Nakajima Kiyoshi 170, 176−7 Nakazato Tarōemon XII (Muan) 192, 201 Nara period 56 National Industrial Art Exhibitions see Shōkōten National Kyoto Ceramic Research Institute,see Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo 190−1, 198, 200 nationalism (nationalist) 7, 77, 79, 86, 215 Nicholson, Ben and Winifred 113, 122 Nihon Dentō Kōgei Ten 189; see also Japan Traditional Art Crafts Exhibition Nihon Kōgeikai 198, 200 Nin’ami Dōhachi 92 Ninsei see Nonomura Ninsei Ninsei-style ware 23−5, 191; see also Nonomura Ninsei Nishizawa Tekiho 12, 200 Nitten, Nitten group 176, 194, 197−201 noborigama 7; see also kilns Noguchi, Isamu 177, 218 Noguchi Shinzō 200 Nojima Yasuzō 152, 154−5, 155 Nonomura Ninsei 4, 10, 84, 92 Noritake 197 Nōten 11, 13, 70−1, 75−6; see also Shōkōten Numata Ichiga 177 objet (obuje) 3, 169−70, 174, 182, 184n2, 184n5 Occupation (of Japan) 1, 12, 195−6, 199 Ogata Kenzan 86, 92; see also Kenzanstyle ware

Okakura Kakuzō 29, 138−9 Ōkōchi Masatoshi 129−30, 132, 134−5, 191 Okuda Eisen 92 Okuda Seiichi 13, 129, 191, 216; establishment of Institute of Oriental Ceramics 136−7; development of connoisseurship 130−4; Japan as guardian of Asian tradition 139; see also Saikokai Ōkura China 197 Omega Workshops 113, 121−2 Onchizuroku 57 Onta 5, 197 Oribe 196, 200−1 Oriental Ceramic Society 115, 136−7 Orientalism 161, 211, 216−7 Osaka 71, 91, 94, 172, 178, 195 Osaka Technical School, Osaka Higher Technical School 91 painting 137−8, 145−6, 155, 172, 199, 215; artists’ collectives 11; Chinese, Korean 35; compared to ceramics or craft 6, 31, 84, 113, 116, 120−3, 133−5, 150; depicting imperial banquet 43, 44; exhibitions 70−1; folk art painting 75; modern painting 152, 153, 174, 176; on ceramic wares 80; skill 173; style on ceramics 44, 52, 73; technology and training 95, 101−2 Paris Exposition Universelle see Exposition Universelle Paris World’s Fair or Paris International Exhibition see Exposition Universelle Paterson Gallery 13, 109, 114−19, 122−4 paulownia crest 29, 40, 41, 44−52, 49, 57−8 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition (1876) 51, 94 Picasso, Pablo 119, 174 plaster molds 95−6, 100, 103, 216 Pleydell-Bouverie, Katharine 99, 123, 216−18 Pollock, Jackson 177 postwar (World War II) period 4, 12, 170, 172, 189, 195−6, 199−200 “potter’s paradise” 2, 189–90, 193, 199, 203–4 Qing period 25, 28, 35, 137, 173 Raku Kichizaemon 9 Raku ware 114, 145

228 Index Raku workshop 4, 9; see also Tanaka Chōjirō Read, Herbert 120, 123 Research Institute of Oriental Ceramics see Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo Richards, Frances 113 Rodin, Auguste 151−2 Rookwood Pottery 29 Royal Copenhagen Porcelain 29, 214 Ruskin, John 112 Saikokai 128−35, 137, 139 Sakaida Kakiemon XII 9, 201 Sanda ware 24, 35 Satsuma ware 8, 10, 22, 24, 86 Sawada Sei’ichirō 75 Sawada Sōzan 72, 74 Seger cones 95−6, 216, 218 Seifū Yohei 25, 29 Seiji Kaisha 41, 41, 45−7, 49, 51−4, 53, 54 Seinen Sakutōka Shūdan 170, 174 Serizawa Keisuke 4, 5 Seto region, Seto ware 2, 4, 69, 99, 134, 195; Chinese and Korean imitations made in 24; Koyama Fujio in 191−3 Sèvres 13, 47−51, 49, 58, 177, 214 sgraffito 76, 77, 79, 175, 176 Shigaraki 177, 180−1 Shikōkai group 197 Shino ware 193, 195−6, 200−2, 202 Shinshōkai group 176, 197−8 Shintō 56 Shirakaba group 111, 145, 149, 151−4, 159 Shōkōten 70, 189 Shōsōin Collection 13, 55−8, 55 Showa era 3, 86, 128, 193, 215 Silk Road 56, 138 Sino-Japanese war 31, 33 Sōdeisha group 86, 169−72, 176, 179−80, 197−8, 218 Song period 113, 135, 137, 192, 215; defined as classical period 9, 201; influence on Japanese artists 170−1, 184, 218; period of popularity in the West 117−20, 122 St Ives see Leach, Bernard Staffordshire slipware 120 Staite Murray, William 113, 117, 121−4, 216 stoneware 24, 25, 73, 74, 76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 84, 97, 98, 169, 172, 175, 179, 181−2, 181, 182, 183; enameled 28; historic styles inspiring modern

ceramists 2, 23, 115, 120, 122, 156−8, 172; in England and Europe 112−14, 121−2, 148; in exhibitions 28; Isamu Noguchi 177, 218; science of 95; technical achievements 9; see also Chinese ceramics; Korean ceramics studio potter, origin of term 112 Surrealism 170 Suwa Sozan I 34 Suwa Sozan II 34 Suzuki Osamu 170−2, 176−7, 179, 179, 180, 181, 198 “Swatow”-style ware 23 Taisho era 10, 32, 75, 148; ceramics during 34, 75, 82, 190, 215−16; education and scholarship during 13, 101, 128−9, 139, 157; growth in collecting during 130, 134, 135; modernism and modernization 3−4, 78, 86, 90, 215−16 Tajimi region 69 Takahashi Dōhachi IV 99 Takahashi Yoshio 133 Takamura Toyochika 71, 83−4 Takemoto Hayata 25, 27, 29 Tamba 197 Tanaka Chōjirō 4 Tang period 54−5, 55, 118, 120−1, 135, 137, 218 tea ceremony, tea utensils 2, 25, 137−9, 177, 212, 216; ceramics outside the tea ceremony 10, 133, 190−1; Chinese tradition and tea utensils 23−4, 26−7, 135, 172; connoisseurship 7, 129−35, 134, 156−7, 202, 202; wares for domestic market 22, 24, 32−4, 34, 148, 182, 193; see also chanoyu; wabi Teiten exhibitions 77, 79, 81−4, 86, 148−50, 189, 200; absence of floral motifs 75−6; conditions for ceramists not exhibited 193−5, 198; establishment of craft category 11, 69–71, 172, 215; Kyoto potters in 13, 72−5, 80; reorganization 70−2, 152 tenmoku ware 27, 96, 158, 200 Teshigahara Hiroshi 215 Tōjiki Kenkyūkai 130, 132, 191 Tokuda Yasokichi I 200−1 Tokugawa shogunate 3, 21, 26 Tokyo 111−12, 129, 196, 212; exhibitions and galleries 71, 111−12, 145−6, 150−2, 158, 169, 190, 198; Gottfried Wagener 94; museums ; potters and

Index  229 studios 27, 71, 86, 96, 111; technical schools 8, 71, 90−1, 94−5, 99, 102, 102, 130, 132, 216; Tokyo School of Fine Art and universities 90, 94, 130, 132, 189, 191, 196 Tokyo Higher Technical School 71, 90, 95, 99, 102, 102, 111 Tokyo Institute of Technology 8, 90, 216 Tokyo National Museum 191 Tokyo Vocational School 8, 90, 94, 216 Tomimoto Kenkichi 2, 112, 123, 194; as a teacher 103, 123, 176; Bernard Leach correspondence 10; critical praise 9; elevation of ceramic art 70, 72; exhibitions 72, 111, 123−4, 176, 198; Living National Treasures 193, 198, 200−2; the nude 13, 144−61, 144, 147, 155, 159; selling price of work 199 Tōtōkai 86 Tōyō Tōji Kenkyūjo 128−9, 136, 191 Toyotomi Hideyoshi 131 Training Center of the Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute see Kyoto City Ceramic Research Institute Tsuda Seifū 70−1, 75 Tsuji house 41, 50−1 Tyson, Ian 212 Ueda Toyokichi 93, 93 Ugetsu Monogatari 1, 1 ukiyo-e see woodblock prints Umehara Ryūzaburō 152−5, 153 Uno Ninmatsu 34 Uno Sōyō 200 van Gogh, Vincent 119, 212 Victoria and Albert Museum 115, 118, 123, 144, 213−14

Vienna Universal Exposition (1873) 6, 70, 94 Vienna World’s Fair see Vienna Universal Exposition Vlaminck, Maurice de 119−20 Vyse, Charles 123 wabi 24, 138 Wagener, Gottfried 8, 94 Wedgwood, Josiah 216 Wells, Reginald 113, 117, 123 Whiting, Geoffrey and David 212 Wiener Werkstätte 121 Wilde, Oscar 212 women in ceramics 4, 99, 113, 122−3, 216−18 woodblock prints 4, 5, 135, 145, 212 World Columbian Exposition (1893) 27, 214 World War II 4, 83, 194−5, 199, 218 Yagi Issō 99 Yagi Kazuo 7, 86, 99, 169, 175, 181, 183, 198; iconic work of twentieth century 169, 218; unglazed work 177−8; writings 171, 176, 180−1 Yamada Hikaru 170−3, 177, 182, 182, 184 Yamada Tetsu 173 Yanagi Sōetsu 111−12, 158−61, 200, 202, 217; Mingei movement leader 2, 123, 148, 157−8; views on European art 152−4 Yano Tōtō 191 Yayoi period 177−8 Yokohama 8, 21−2, 24, 27 Yonezawa Sohō 80−1, 81 Yūtōen 71, 75, 96, 97, 98