Floating Along in the World of Japanese Prints

Bidding on Benzaiten at Bonhams

Yesterday, my husband and I drove up to Oxford, the city famous for its spires... and academics who rig examination results for wealthy diplomats and then murder those who find out about it (yes, I do watch too much 'Inspector Morse'). The purpose of the visit was to add another Utamaro print to my collection, courtesy of Bonhams. The lot, advertised as 'after Utamaro' but a genuine Utamaro from around 1792-3 all the same, came home with me, along with a copy of Noguchi Yone's 'Hiroshige' and a couple of Indian silk paintings.

The print shows Benzaiten, the goddess of knowledge, music, poetry and art - one of the Shichifukujin (Seven Gods of Good Fortune: the seven being Benzaiten, Daikoku, Ebisu, Hotei, Jurōjin, Fukurokuju and Bishamon). As I'm an artist and writer, she is my favourite member of the group. She is shown playing a shamisen, alongside a man who, seated with fan in hand, is scrutinising the music book that has been placed upon the box before him. I love his facial expression... the furrowed brow and look of extreme concentration mixed with mild confusion. He looks like me when I'm filling in a crossword puzzle.

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.

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 Keishū 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 Yoshisaburō and his yearning for Someko, a woman who is engaged to another man and who does not return his affections. Yoshisaburō 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 Yoshisaburō 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 on the right is another from my collection; a print where my passion for kuchi-e and that for rats coincide. The design, again by Takeuchi Keishū, 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.