Extraordinary prices paid for Japanese prints

One of the things I love about buying old books is the possibility that someone might have left a little something extra inside them for you... a bus ticket, a newspaper cutting, or some other little gem. I bought a second set of the original Henri Vever collection sale catalogues that were compiled by Jack Hillier, complete with their green dust jackets, a little while back and this incomplete cutting, dating from 27th March, 1974, was stuck inside the third volume:

Extraordinary prices paid for Japanese prints
By Geraldine Norman
Sale Room Correspondent

The third and final sale at Sotheby's devoted to the famous Henri Vever collection of Japanese prints produced extraordinary prices yesterday. The sale, which had been expected to make £136,235 totalled £330,680; the collection, sold in three parts, has realised £1,838,695.

Two separate Japanese dealers had chartered aircraft to bring collectors to the sale, one from Tokyo and one from Kyoto. Much of the Japanese national collection was acquired from Vever in the 1920s; his name thus stands high in Japan. Vever himself was a French jeweller, artist and collector of various items. He died in 1943.
Yesterday's sale essentially contained the left-overs of the collection, some fine prints but mostly in indifferent condition. A Harunobu print of a girl parachuting into the branches of a flowering cherry made the top price at £8,600 (estimate £400 to £500). Only one other impression of the print is recorded. She is apparently testing whether Buddha wishes her to marry; if she reaches the ground alive, he approves.

The print referred to (illustrated above) is an egoyomi, or calendar print, issued for 1765. The Japanese year was divided up into twelve long and short months, with the particular months designated as long or short ones changing each and every year, without any logical pattern. Egoyomi served as a way of letting the general public know which months would be long and which would be short, with the information often concealed within intricate designs. In this case, the long months are printed within the seashells on the young woman's kimono, and are 2, 3, 5, 6, 8 and 10.

Impressions of Ukiyo-e

For anyone coming to the subject and looking for a modern interpretation of the history of Ukiyo-e, this book is going to be an incredible disappointment. The information is totally outdated.

I have an interest in the development of the study of Japanese woodblock prints, and I enjoy reading books written in the 19th and early 20th century about the subject, so for me the fact that this book is based on writings that are a hundred years old was not a problem in itself... I find older works interesting. Unfortunately, this one is not simply a modern reprint of Dora Amsden's 'Impressions of Ukiyo-Ye', which was published in 1905. It is a joining of that book to the work of Woldemar von Seidlitz, without any indication within the book as to which parts belong to von Seidlitz and which belong to Amsden. I have the original Amsden book and on comparing the two volumes found that those parts that belong to Amsden have been edited in the new book, so the text isn't identical to the original. I can't fathom the point in taking an old work, which is so outdated that its antiquarian charm is the only thing it has going for it, and altering even that! In addition, the illustrations of artists' signatures included in Amsden's book are excluded from this one, as is the section entitled 'Hints to Collectors'.

The publisher seems to have taken two out-of-copyright books and melded them together without any regard for whether or not the finished result will be of any use to students of the subject. There is no indication to the newcomer, who is not familiar with the work of Amsden or von Seidlitz, that this book is not an original work or that it is a melding of two different works. In fact, the author biographies state:

'Woldemar von Seidlitz is a German art historian and a writer. His study of Japanese art is a work of reference in his field and continues the work of art historians before him'
'Dora Amsden is also an art historian specialised in the image of the woman in Japanese prints'

The implication here is that both writers are still living. Von Sedilitz died in 1922. Given that Amsden's book was published in 1905, how likely is it that she is still living?

The packaging of the book seems to be designed to mislead.

How to spot a prostitute

I've been asked a fair few times recently if I can explain how to tell the difference between an ordinary Japanese wife or teahouse girl and a Yoshiwara courtesan in Japanese prints... so here goes. One of the first things that most people learn, from reading about Japanese prints, is that Yoshiwara women wore their obi tied at the front, and that does give us our first clue. Were you to rely upon that alone, however, you'd conclude that the woman shown standing in this print by Utamaro on the right (from the series Fûzoku ukiyo hakkei, 'Eight Views of Customs of the Floating World') is a courtesan... and you'd be wrong. She is in fact a widow. Compare the decoration, or rather the lack of it, on her robes in comparison with these ladies below.

This print, by Chôkôsai Eishô, depicts Hanaôgi, Segawa, and Miyahito, who were all courtesans of the Ôgiya brothel. Look at the bold and colourful patterns on their multi-layered robes... no modest merchant's wife or geisha would have dressed in such a flamboyant manner. High-ranking courtesans wore the most expensive and lavish brocade, whereas a respectable woman, whether married or not, would have been required to own a more subdued wardrobe.

And let's not forget the entourage. Many of the full-length images of courtesans include at least one attendant, as these women were rarely without their kamuro (child apprentice) at their side. Take a look at the image below by Chôbunsai Eishi, depicting Hanaôgi walking along with her young kamuro, Yoshino and Tatsuta; one walking before her and the other following behind. Look at the way the little kamuro have their hair dressed.

The clothes of both the courtesan herself and her attendants and the ornate style in which the kamuro's hair is dressed, not to mention the positioning of the figures in a processional manner, set them apart from the ordinary women and children depicted in scenes set outside of the Yoshiwara, such as the one below by Katsukawa Shunchô, which is one sheet from a pentaptych (five-sheet print) depicting calligraphy students chatting away as they walk along on a visit to a shrine.

Look at the modest clothes worn by the women in Shunchô's print, their simple hairstyles, and the relaxed manner in which they walk along engrossed in conversation with the other members of the group.


So now you may be wondering how you're supposed to tell the difference if you're looking at a bust portrait, so you don't have much to work with where clothes are concerned, and there are no kamuro in sight. Well, there's always the hair. A young teahouse waitress, such as the renowned beauty Ohisa of the Takashimaya, would have worn her hair with a modest amount of adornment, and never piled up in the elaborate styles worn by women of the Yoshiwara. Compare this portrait of her by Utamaro, below, with the image that follows it, of the courtesan Hanaôgi by the artist Ichirakutei Eisui... and look at all those hair pins in Hanaôgi's hair.

Bijin leaping off the page

I'm taking a break from the two dimensional world of Japanese prints today and posting about the three dimensional, sharing my love for Japanese figural ceramics. It all started about three and a half years ago, when I moved from dealing in Japanese woodblock prints to selling Chinese ceramics. A large lot in an American auction caught my eye, because of a pair of Chinese porcelain figures, and without paying any attention to what else was in it I placed my absentee bid. When my shipment arrived from the States, the first thing to be unwrapped was a glorious Kutani figure... a figural candle holder with a beautiful orange kimono. I fell in love with her and have been collecting Japanese figures ever since (I actually gave up selling ceramics in 2006).

For me, these bijin are a three dimensional representation of those we see in Japanese prints... a fair few of mine look as though they jumped directly off the page, such as a figure of a dancer with tall hat that is the spitting image of one depicted by Utamaro in one of his Niwaka series. Anyway, the main reason for deciding to post about these figures today was the arrival of the latest addition to my collection (see photo above). She has an old repair to the neck, but other than that she's in great condition for a lady who's been around since the 18th century.

Another favourite lady from my collection... the first Satsuma figure to join us, bought from Paris a year or so ago. The painting of her hairline is so delicate, and that of the decoration on her obi is just exquisite. She's holding a hagoita (battledore) that's decorated with a bust portrait of a woman. Aside from a little wear to the enamel at the bottom of her dress, she's perfect.


The most difficult part about collecting Japanese figures (apart from actually finding them in the first place) is finding ones that haven't had their heads of hands knocked off. Aside from the Imari figure above and a pair of beautiful Kutani ladies that I bought a couple of years back, every figure in my collection has avoided having her head taken off.

The lady to the right here, holding a folding fan to her mouth and with long sleeves swaying in the wind, was one of my first acquisitions. I think she's rather dynamic and looks as though she's been caught in the moment whilst performing a dance... I half expect her to begin dancing again at any moment. She's a later figure than the Satsuma one above, which dates from the nineteenth century, and dates from around 1910-20.

One of the things which aids in distinguishing between

nineteenth to early twentieth century Kutani figures and ones which were produced later is the type of gilding used. With pre-1930 figures, the gold paint has a soft sheen to it, but with post-1930 figures the gold is very shiny indeed, very reflective and much like the gilding we find on modern ceramics. All of the figures shown here are pre-1930.

Most of the figures that come up for sale are around the nine to twelve inch mark, but you can get ones which are quite large. The largest in my collection is the beauty below... she is also my favourite. She stands nineteen inches tall and is in absolutely perfect condition. Astonishingly, even her delicate fingers have remained intact. The painting of her obi is remarkable, as is the modelling and painting of her facial features, as you will be able to see from the close-up below.

Her black kimono is decorated with cranes, some paddling in a stream amid long grasses and some in flight amongst the clouds.
The last photograph I'm including here is not of a female figure... it's an incredibly cute tiger that I couldn't resist. After collecting only female figures, I diversified and began looking for animals... predominantly rats of course. And if anyone out there has a Satsuma or Kutani rat that they'd like to sell, please do get in touch (my email address is at the left of this page, beneath 'Contact Me').

As I mentioned above, it's not all that easy to find these figures to begin with. Finding them without damage is even more difficult. The odd bit of enamel wear is pretty standard and makes little difference to the beauty of a piece, but serious damage, such as a bad repair to a detached head, can ruin one completely. The impact on price is quite dramatic also, with a figure that might cost around £200 in good condition being worth little more than £20 if damaged.


The only book on the market at present that deals with these figures is 'Figural Japanese Export Ceramics' by Nancy Schiffer. The text is full of errors and the price guidelines aren't even close to realistic, so in that respect the book is completely unreliable, but the photographs will give you a good idea of the sort of figures that were produced.

'Revealing Yoshiwara' illustrated talk

On June 3rd, I'll be giving a talk at the Museum of East Asian Art, in Bath, between 5:30 and 7:30pm. I'll be talking about the women who worked in the Yoshiwara, from the highest ranking courtesans to the lowest ranking prostitutes of the moatside brothels, the day to day operations of the quarter and its various festivals and celebrations, and the men who frequented the area in search of a good time. I'll be illustrating the talk with designs by Utamaro, Hiroshige, Koryusai and other Ukiyo-e artists. Copies of my book, Utamaro Revealed, will be on sale at the museum shop, and I'll be available for signing them too. For more information please contact the museum on 01225 464640, see my web site news page, or email me at gina@ginacolliasuzuki.com

(Image: Dawn in the Yoshiwara (Kakuchû shinonome) from the series One Hundred Famous Views of Edo (Meisho Edo hyakkei), by Utagawa Hiroshige).

Kuchi-e... novel images of Meiji Japan

In addition to Ukiyo-e broadsheets and books, and Shin-hanga broadsheets, I also collect kuchi-e. Kuchi-e (lit. 'mouth-pictures') were frontispieces, inserted into the fronts of Meiji era novels and literary magazines (although independent kuchi-e prints were also produced). Generally produced as fold-outs (hence the folds), these prints were produced using sophisticated printing techniques, such as gauffrage, the use of metallic pigments, bokashi shading, and highly detailed carving. Kuchi-e are often exceptionally well preserved, due to being contained within books or magazines, and the fact that until relatively recently they were almost entirely overlooked by print collectors. Personally, I think the designs are exquisite and the subtle colouring is thoroughly enchanting, so the lack of enthusiasm for them amongst other collectors is somewhat confusing for me. There was a sudden rush of interest with the publication of Merritt and Yamada's 'Woodblock Kuchi-e Prints: Reflections of Meiji Culture,' but that seems to have dwindled.

My first kuchi-e print was the one shown above, produced by Takeuchi Keishû for 'Pledge at the Pond,' written by Emi Suiin and published in the literary magazine 'Bungei kurabu' in 1901. 'Pledge at the Pond' tells the story of a young man called Yoshisaburô and his yearning for Someko, a woman who is engaged to another man and who does not return his affections. Yoshisaburô has a dream about Someko, and in it they are in a boat, talking of love... she throws her engagement ring into the water and promises to return to him the following summer. In this design we see Someko in the boat, as Yoshisaburô imagined her, holding the fabric of her sleeve between her teeth, to keep it out of the water, as she dips her hand into the pond.

This print (right) is another from my collection; a print where my passion for kuchi-e and that for rats coincide. The design, again by Takeuchi Keishû, is an independent kuchi-e. A young woman is busy reading a letter by lamplight, while perched on top of the stand for an oil lamp there is a figure of a rat, the zodiacal symbol for 1912.

As these prints have been overlooked for the most part by Japanese woodblock print collectors, they are often available at very affordable prices. The design of Someko on the pond, despite its outstanding quality, was a mere £49 when I bought it. Some prints go for as little as £25, if you know where to look.

Ephemera... exploring the world of old paper

If you'd like to find out more about how I started out in Japanese prints, and about my collection, there's an interview with little old me over at the blog 'Ephemera, exploring the world of old paper' (a very nice blog indeed). Click here to read the interview.