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.

Christie’s Asian Art Week

Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849) 'Cooling off on a summer evening'

'Cooling off on a summer evening' - detail

Christie's Japanese And Korean Art Sale will take place on March 17th, in New York, and will be comprised of 174 lots, 43 of which are Japanese paintings. The highlight of this selection of works is Katsushika Hokusai's 'Cooling off on a summer evening,' a large painting (ink, colour and gold on silk) - measuring 20 13/16 x 45 3/16in (52.9 x 114.7cm) - most likely carried out as a special commission for one of the artist's most wealthy clients. Painted around 1810, when Hokusai was at the height of his powers, it depicts two young women enjoying a summer evening, seated on a bench outside a teahouse, watching a young serving girl who is busy trying to catch fish with a bamboo basket in the nearby Sumida River. The painting is expected to fetch in the region of $800,000 - $1,000,000.

A hanging scroll (ink on paper, shown above right) by Kitagawa Utamaro, depicting a young woman, seen from the rear, standing beside a small boy and looking down at him as he sits at her feet, holding a rattle above his head, is expected to fetch in the region of $30,000 - $40,000. The young woman's hair, sweeping up from her neck and piled high upon her head, reminds me of a favourite Utamaro print of mine (and a very well-known and popular design) of a young woman, shown from the rear, applying white powder to her neck while she observes her reflection in a hand mirror (shown left).

Kitagawa Utamaro (1760-1849) 'Beauty and child' - detail

Also on sale are a set of nine erotic paintings by Katsukawa Shunshô, along with a preface by the haikai poet Baba Zongi (1703-1782), written in 1780, from a sequence of twelve paintings (ink, color, silver and gold on silk, originally mounted together in a large-format handscroll). The first four paintings, which are not explicitly erotic in nature (see image below), were completed prior to the preface being written, with the remaining eight of the original series, which are explicitly erotic, being added around five or six years later, during the early 1780s. Shunshô's paintings rank amongst the most significant of all paintings produced in Japan, regardless of school or period, and this set have an estimated value of $500,000 - $700,000.

Katsukawa Shunsho (d. 1792) One of nine erotic scenes from 'Secret Games in the Spring Palace'

(All images courtesy of Christie's, except the woodblock print of the woman powdering her neck)

The glittering world of the Japanese courtesan?

Postcard depicting a Japanese courtesan, postmarked 1903.

The two woodblock prints shown here, both by Utamaro, are from the series Seirô yûkun awase kagami (A Mirror of Courtesans of the Green Houses), published by Yamadaya Sanshirô around 1797. The print to the right depicts Kasugano and Utahama of the Tamaya brothel, whilst the one below depicts the famous courtesan Hanaôgi alongside Takigawa from the Ôgiya brothel. The highest ranking courtesans of the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter were celebrities, highly accomplished and renowned for their beauty. They were poets, calligraphers and musicians, having undergone years of training to achieve their high rank within the quarter. These women wore the finest brocades, adorned their hair with hairpins made from gold and silver, and attracted the attentions of some of the wealthiest men in the city.

When looking at images of glamourous courtesans in all their finery, it is easy to see only the yards of luxurious dresses and perfectly coiffured hairstyles, and to forget that they were real-life women, sold into prostitution at a young age, in debt up to their ears due to a system of abuse which sought to keep them enslaved until their late twenties at least, and imprisoned within the Yoshiwara quarter, unable to come and go as they wished.

Women who were required to exhibit themselves within the latticed cages (called harimise, see images below) at the fronts of the brothels, were forced to sit in a manner which made them attractive to male passers-by, so they could not relax regardless of the length of time spent on display. They were expected to keep bathroom visits to a minimum, were scolded if they became too jovial, and when in the company of a client were not allowed to eat regardless of how hungry they might be. Their entire existence revolved around maintaining a front which made them attractive and desirable, regardless of their own personal feelings regarding their state of being.

This does not change the fact that the works of artists who sought to capture the beauty of these women are wonderful designs, worthy of praise for their artistic merit. But the suffering of the subject should not be glossed over in order to make the viewer more comfortable when viewing such prints.

Courtesans on display in the harimise, from Utamaro's illustrated album Seirô ehon nenjû gyôji (Annals of the Green Houses), published in 1804.


Postcard showing courtesans on display in the Yoshiwara, circa 1910. Putting women on display was prohibited from 1916.

Tufted toothpicks - Fusayôji

Once again on the subject of teeth. This print, which just happens to be one of my favourites, from Utamaro's series 'Customs of Beauties around the Clock' (Fûzoku bijin tokei), shows a young woman (the subtitle says 'a kept woman'), at about ten o'clock in the morning, brushing her teeth whilst her female servant holds a basin of water before her. In her hand the young woman is holding a bag of toothpowder, and over her shoulder a hand towel is draped. The thin length of wood which she is holding in her mouth is a tufted toothpick.

During the Edo period (1603-1868), a tufted toothpick (fusayôji) served as a toothbrush. The use of toothpicks originated with the Buddhist monks who travelled to Japan from India, via China, who were required to chew 'shiki' ('toothwood') each morning. Chewing on one end of these wooden sticks created a tufted section which was then used to clean the teeth.

Fusayôji were made from willow ('yô' means 'willow tree', and 'ji' means 'branch'). The end was beaten to create the required tufted brush. Those for men were made from the trunk of the willow tree, whilst those for women were made from the branches of the tree and were softer, to prevent the accidental scraping away of the meticulously applied ohaguro. Fusayôji were usually around 12cm long, with a 2cm tufted end, and the non-tufted end was tapered to provide a tool for tongue-scraping. One widely held superstitious belief, which was taken very seriously at the time, was that terrible consequences would befall anyone who did not break the fusayôji in half before throwing it away.

Toothpaste was made by mixing a polishing powder called Boshusuna (sand from Boshu) with a scented toothpowder and water. A polishing salt was added to the mixture, and possibly camphor also, and the paste was then put onto a wet fusayôji and used to clean the teeth.