Utamaro and His Five Women

A couple of weeks back, I finally got hold of a copy of Kenji Mizoguchi's 'Utamaro o Meguro Gonin no Onna' (Utamaro and His Five Women), released in 1946, and took the opportunity to watch it this weekend. It's not available on DVD in the UK, so my slightly battered copy, which I searched high and low for, is an ex-rental video from the States. I approached the film not as a movie buff (because I'm definitely not one) but as an art lover, and found the treatment of the relationship between artist and subject to be quite interesting. The story is one of obsession and passion; for Utamaro art is the focus of both, whilst for the five women connected to him it is romantic attachment which takes centre stage. Utamaro is depicted as a man obsessed with women, but not primarily as objects of sexual desire, as his only real connection with these women is through their depiction. He is consumed by art, as the woman are consumed by love. The strong characters in the film are the five women, whilst the men depicted are fairly weak; victims of their desire for the women in their lives or, as in Utamaro's case, their work.
The women fall into five specific female 'types' in the same manner that the females depicted in Utamaro's prints were grouped according to their characteristics. There is the refined courtesan Tagasode of the Daimonjiya brothel, upon whose back Utamaro paints a picture of Yamauba and Kintarô in one of the films most well-known scenes, and the passionate and wilful waitress Okita of the Naniwaya teahouse. There is Yukie, the faithful and respectable daughter of an artist of the Kanô school; Oran, the naive daughter of a commoner; and the plain but good natured Oshin. The character of Okita is particularly interesting, and I found the storyline to be especially entertaining (and highly inventive) considering the fact that the chapter in my book, Utamaro Revealed, that deals with her, and other young girls like her who worked as serving girls in the teashops of Edo, is called 'The Beauty of Innocence' (once you see the film you'll understand what I mean here). For anyone who knows something of Utamaro's biographical details, this film does not attempt to portray the events of the artist's life accurately... having Tsutaya alive following Utamaro's hand-cuffing, when in reality he was dead seven years before the artist's censorship. It does, however, bring alive the artist's environment and, regardless of the fanciful nature of the Okita storyline, present the men and women who Utamaro associated with in a very three dimensional manner. As I am, and have always been, immensely interested in the subjects depicted in Utamaro's prints, I found this bringing to life of the characters we are used to encountering only in two dimensional representations to be extremely captivating.

How much is my Utamaro print worth?

A few years back, a woman approached me at my stand at an antiques fair and presented a woodblock print for my consideration. I was dealing predominantly in Japanese ceramics by that time, but she'd been redirected to me by a dealer who remembered I'd once sold Japanese prints. The print, a Meiji restrike of an Utamaro design, was charming, with colouring mellowed by the passage of time and a background of softly shimmering mica. The valuation of tens of thousands of pounds which had been expected was not forthcoming, and the resulting disappointment was entirely evident. The wonderful design lost all of its appeal for its owner. It saddened me.

I'm a realist. I know that prints have to be valued for insurance purposes, etc. But what grieves me is the apparent lack of interest in artistic value amongst so many who collect works of art. A thing of beauty is reduced to a figure in pounds and pence, and the work which went into creating it is overlooked; it's beauty remarked upon but of only secondary importance.

I can value Japanese woodblock prints, but I choose not to. Their unique beauty, the subjects depicted, and the era within which they were created is of the utmost interest to me... their monetary value is not.

I am often asked to suggest particular artists or designs which will prove to be a sound financial investment for the future, and I try to explain that I am neither capable of presenting a magic formula that will guarantee a good return nor interested in doing so. The only way to avoid disappointment is to buy what brings you pleasure. If a design inspires you then buy it, if you are captivated by its beauty then buy it... if a purchase hangs on an assessment of the price tag and the likelihood that the figure recorded on it will double in twelve months time, then don't buy it.

The woman with the Meiji Utamaro came back to my stand at the closing of that fair. She didn't want to take the print home and offered it for sale. I bought it, and I still have it now. She visited me again when I returned to that venue, reminiscing about the days before our first meeting, when she had been the proud owner of a valuable Utamaro... which turned out not to be. She missed those days. She didn't miss the print.

Buy what you love. Buy what you would miss if it were gone.

A rat and her nibbles...

This charming little lady is the latest addition to my rat print collection. The print, dating from 1895, is the work of Numata Kashu (1838-1901), a pupil of Numata Gessai (1787-1864). Numata was a painter from Nagoya who, in 1888, helped in the decoration of the Japanese Imperial Palace. From the proportions of the body, this little lady appears to be rather young. Her tail, the length of which is particularly exaggerated, is sweeping around behind her as she stands before the three beans which are about to become her lunch. I discovered quickly, when I first started collecting them, that it was very difficult to find prints depicting rats, and recently it has been even more so, so coming across this one was a real treat. I have never managed to get past being overly excited when I buy a new print. Whether the design is worth hundreds of pounds or only five, I buzz for weeks following a purchase. I am completely unable to settle when a print has to be sent through the post to me, as I have no patience whatsoever and can't rest until I have my hands on it, and I actually miss them when I'm away from home. Well, as it says in my profile, I am obsessed.

Utamaro Revealed at the Museum of East Asian Art, Bath

I will be at the Museum of East Asian Art in Bath, from 5:30-7:30pm on January 21st 2009, to talk about Utamaro's depictions of real-life Japanese men and women, focusing particularly on his series of ill-fated lovers. These stories of love, revenge and murder became famous amongst the townspeople of Edo after being adapted for the popular stage, but they are not theatrical prints as such as, unlike other artists, Utamaro chose to depict the real-life individuals themselves rather than the actors who played them on stage. Tickets are priced at £5 and you'll need to book at least five days in advance. The venue details are:

Museum of East Asian Art
12 Bennett Street
Bath
BA1 2QJ
Tel: 01225 464640
Fax: 01225 461718
Museum of East Asian Art Web Site

The MEAA is an excellent museum, housing one of the most extensive collections of East Asian art outside London. It is situated in a restored Georgian house, just off The Circus and very close to the Assembly Rooms in central Bath, and is well worth a visit. I lived in Bath for five years, and it was one of my favourite haunts. There is also an excellent gift shop.

Japanese Art and Design sale at Christie's King Street

On November 11th, 262 lots will go under the hammer at the Japanese Art & Design auction at Christie's (King Street) in London, including 79 Japanese print lots. Amongst the prints on offer is a design from the series Karitaku hakkei yûkun no zu (Eight Views of Courtesans in Temporary Lodgings) by Utamaro. The design, which is not illustrated in Shibui's Ukiyo-e Zuten, was published by Tsuruya Kiemon in 1794, and depicts two courtesans set against a yellow background. The young woman to the left appears to be readying herself before taking a bath, holding a cotton towel in her hands as she prepares to exit the scene, whilst her companion, seated on the ground to the right with her hair arranged in the gikei style, is busy composing a letter and is resting her chin against her hand as she contemplates her next brush strokes.

The karitaku, or 'temporary lodgings', were established when the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter suffered fire damage, as was the case in 1794 when, on the second day of the fouth month at around 10 o’clock at night, a fire broke out in Edomachi. The brothel-keepers would apply for permission to set up temporary accommodation, and permission would be granted without delay under the provision that, while the residents of the Yoshiwara were carrying out business in the temporary quarter, certain restrictions were observed. Official instructions issued following the establishment of the karitaku in 1794 stated that courtesans were not permitted to wear garments which were considered to be overtly attractive. In addition to this, they were not allowed to go outside of the houses which were being used as temporary brothels, or to display themselves, even within the houses, in a manner which might be visible from outside and attract passers-by. Despite these restrictions, and the fact that the temporary facilities were much smaller than the permanent ones, the number of guests who visited the Yoshiwara's courtesans increased dramatically during their stay in the karitaku.

This print, along with one from the series Fûryû mutamagawa (Elegant Six Jewel Rivers), is lot no. 9, and the two designs are expected to fetch in the region of £3,500-4,000.

Antiques for Everyone at the NEC Birmingham

I spent the weekend at the Antiques for Everyone fair at the National Exhibition Centre in Birmingham. I began visiting this particular fair in the late 1980's, but the event is quite different these days, unfortunately not in a good way to my mind. Originally the fair was separated into two sections just as it is now, but section two was comprised of a multitude of small stands selling very affordable (perhaps the word "cheap" might be more appropriate) antiques. Many of these stands in section two were home to hundreds of small items which took an age to get through, and rummaging was all part of the fun. The fair, in those days, really did deserve its name, as there was indeed something for everyone. There was always the chance that you might find real treasure, and I did on numerous occasions. During one visit, at the end of the eighties, I couldn't believe my eyes when I spotted an original Ukiyo-e painting by Katsukawa Shunsho hanging on the back wall of one of the stalls in section two. I was astonished that it hadn't been bought already, as it was on display in such a prominent position... but there it was, waiting for me. I snapped that up for a little over one hundred pounds, which was just astounding. Japanese prints were readily available, and not a single fair passed by without me returning home with some little gem, often having paid only a small fraction of its true value. Those days are gone though, sadly. Most of the dealers I made a point of visiting no longer attend. There is so little variety there when it comes to Japanese prints, and the prices are invariably inflated for the most part. I visit now partly due to the fact that I can be a sentimental old fool sometimes.