A few weeks ago, I was translating material for my friend Jan Petterson whom I met at our armor symposium in Florence. To provide you with some context, Jan is going to write a book about the matchlock history of Yonezawa during the Momoyama and Edo period and visited the very site earlier this year. There he had the chance to get in touch with the local groups and experts and if you want to learn about his awesome trip (with Jan himself actively participating in the annual teppô events), I would highly recommend to register with The Samurai Armour Forum and check out the thread labeled “The viking raid of 2016!” Great read!

Now as Jan is writing his book, I am not going into too much detail here but in one of the relevant source texts, I came across a kind of funny story that I want to share with my readers (Jan is in the loop). To provide some background, the Uesugi (上杉), the daimyô of the Yonezawa fief (米沢藩), were early adopters of the teppô as one of their famous ancestors, Uesugi Kenshin (上杉謙信, 1530-1578), was among the then powerful Sengoku daimyô who recognized the powerful potential of this new weapon. Uesugi Kagekatsu (上杉景勝, 1556-1623), Kenshin’s successor, was actually the first of the family to enter Yonezawa and he too focused very much on having firearms incorporated into his army, much supported by his retainer and confidant Naoe Kanetsugu (直江兼続, 1559-1620). So they hired gunsmiths and shooting instructors and all that stuff and had teppô drills pushed and production sites established on their lands. Kanetsugu by the way compiled a 15-article teppô practice curriculum, the so-called Teppô Keiko Sadame (鉄砲稽古定), which interestingly pretty much grasps all the relevant gun safety issues in effect today.

About a decade after the Ôsaka campaigns of 1614/15 and when everything had calmed down, Kagekatsu’s successor Uesugi Sadakatsu (上杉定勝, 1604-1645) was facing his share to rule of the fief and introduced an event called teppô-jôran (鉄砲上覧) which was an biennial demonstration of all matchlock, hand cannon, and cannon using troops that was witnessed by the daimyô. The teppô-jôran was of course a big thing for the local bushi and a great honor and practice motivation for all participating units. But as more and more importance was attached to that event over the years, an honorable demonstration of skill turned into a dispute between two units about who makes the start. As some of you might know, who is first has ever been a very important issue among samurai armies, i.e. those guys who were leading a vanguard and be the first into battle were usually the ones who entered the history books. So this dispute has to be seen in this context.

Now the fight was between the two units of the o-umamawari-gumi (御馬廻組) and the gojûki-gumi (五十騎組), the former going back to the 100 mounted warriors that were once chosen by Uesugi Kenshin to form his (banner-bearing) elite guard, and the latter to the mounted hatamoto group of 50 which was carefully selected by Uesugi Kagekatsu from his highest ranking and most bemedaled retainers. In short, both units were standing relatively high within the Yonezawa army hierarchy and belonged to the so-called san-tegumi (三手組), a military organizational group within the retainer structure of Yonezawa with the Yoita-gumi (与板組, an infantry unit) being the third party.

Stumbling block for the whole “who comes first at the teppô inspection” dispute was the Kan’ei four (1627) inspection when the gojûki-gumi was about to make the start depite the fact that the o-umamawari-gumi‘s name was on top of the (written) san-tegumi list. So that record was taken literally. The gojûki-gumi however pointed out that it had been in the vanguard at the Ôsaka Winter Campaign and so it was eventually decided in favor of this unit making the start and that the two groups start from now on alternatingly. Well, things heated up again when it came to who performs first at a teppô-jôran after a hatsu-nyûbu (初入部). A hatsu-nyûbu was when the Yonezawa daimyô visited his fief for the first time, i.e. having been raised and living in the Edo mansion of the fief until the succession. So performing first at the first teppô inspection of a newly inaugurated daimyô was even a greater honor for these units. The hatsu-nyûbu thing came up when the sixth Yonezawa daimyô Uesugi Munenori (上杉宗憲, 1714-1734) entered Yonezawa in Kyôhô eleven (1726) and when it was decided that the o-umamawari-gumi should make the start at the first teppô inspection after a hatsu-nyûbu. The gojûki-gumi protested as they had that honor at the last and second last first inspection after a new lord had been appointed. In short, the agreement on the alternating performance was jeopardized by making the first event after a hatsu-nyûbu so special.

The dispute flared up again when Uesugi Harunori (上杉治憲, 1751-1822), aka Yôzan (鷹山) (see picture above), entered Yonezawa in Meiwa six (1769) and the gojûki-gumi made the start. Now the o-umamawari-gumi emphasized that it had been settled since Munenori that they have that honor at the very first event following a hatsu-nyûbu regardless of whose turn it would be following the alternating order. Yôzan addressed the commanders of each unit and brought all parties to the table but no one gave in and things were escalating, with friends and relatives not wanting to sit next to each other up to having daughters divorced.

This whole situation troubled Yôzan very much and he tried again to bring the two units together, also including the Yoita-gumi this time. When they were discussing things Yôzan forwarded that competition is in the nature of a bushi but that they were all still retainers at the end of the day and that they thus have to bear in mind the welfare of the fief as top priority. So more energy should be put into daily teppô practice and a major and long lasting dispute like this has the potential to destroy a fief. With the Yoita-gumi mediating, Yôzan was waiting for a response from the two parties. But when the o-umamawari-gumi was objecting many points of the written reply the gojûki-gumi had submitted, Yôzan’s patience was wearing thin and he had the head of the o-umamawari-gumi removed from his post and the head of the supposedly mediating Yôita-gumi placed under house arrest. After that, both parties were requested to submit another written reply and as this time the one from the gojûki-gumi was nothing more than a stubborn copy of their first reply, the fief’s elder recommended Yôzan that nothing will help but to abolish the whole official teppô inspection. Well, Yôzan wanted to give that issue a last try because him not being able to ressolve this issue would on the one hand worsen the discipline of the entire teppô practice, but would be on the other hand always something that will be associated with his name and function as a daimyô for generations to come. So he openly informed the two parties about these considerations. This was effective, both heads resigned and telling their members about their daimyô’s words, the bushi were deeply impressed but also ashamed that it came so far, replying that from now on, the gojûki-gumi should have the honor of making the start and the o-umamawari-gumi will perform second without further hassle. Yôzan expressed his gratitude to the o-umamawari-gumi and put into effect that the gojûki-gumi will henceforth be the unit that opens the official teppô inspection.

So this whole story tells you that the teppô-jôran was not just seen as a blown up circus event. The units were taking that performance very seriously, even after 150 years of peace. And it also tells you that once achieved merits were resonating strongly within hereditary samurai units. By the way, Jan informed me that the present-day teppô-tai that go back to these two units are still bitter rivals and that they never perform at the same event 🙂

Homepage of the Yonezawa Han Koshiki Hôjutsu Hozon Kai (米沢藩古式砲術保存会) click here.

Videos of the annual event an be found here.

At the Orlando Sword Show last weekend we were briefly talking about the issue of mei removing on swords. Nowadays this issue is fortunately more and more approached very cautiously but it hasn’t always been like that. As emphasized by Mike Yamasaki at our little round table lecture, you have to be very very careful when considering having a signature removed and in this brief article I want to provide you with a concrete example why this is so true.

There is a tantô by Enju Kunisuke (延寿国資) that was originally dated “Karyaku ni jûnigatsu hi” (嘉暦二十二月日, “a day in the twelfth month of Karyaku two [1327]”), i.e. the smith omitted the character for “year” (nen, 年). Now this date was later interpreted as being “Karyaku nijû” (i.e. Karyaku 20, the “ten” from the twelfth month shifting to the year, making 20 out of 2), and as the Karyaku era obviously did not last for 20 years, the year part was removed. Well, the tantô still passed jûyô, with its date now quoted as “Karyaku ?? nigatsu hi” (嘉暦〇〇二月日, “a day in the second month Karyaku ?”) (see picture below).

Picture 1: The tantô in question before (left) and after (right) the characters “two” and “ten” were removed.

Reason why I picked this particular blade or case is because it is a perfect example for making a decision on the basis of insufficient references. Namely, we are facing here a local peculiarity in dating swords. For example, there exists a blade by Enju Kunitoki (国時) that is just dated “Kôkoku san ni kyû” (興国三二九), i.e. “Kôkoku third (year, 1342) second  (month) ninth (day)” (see picture 2) and one by the same smith that is dated “Engen ? jû ni go” (延元〇十二五) (see picture 3). Now the mekugi-ana goes through the first number of the latter but the Engen era only lasted for four years, from 1336 to 1340. However, the subsequent part leaves room for interpretation as it might either be the fifth day of the twelfth month of the 25th day of the tenth month.

Picture 2: tachi, mei: “Kôkoku san ni kyû Kunitoki” (興国三二九国時)

Picture 3: tantô, mei: “Hishû Kikuchi-jû – Engen ? jû ni go Kunitoki” (肥州菊池住・延元〇十二五国時).

So if you have a signed blade and are looking for a second and a third opinion about its authenticity and things point towards gimei and if you have in mind of having the blade papered, and that doesn’t work with a gimei as everybody knows, please be careful and even get a fourth and better a fifth opinion as you are messing with a historical piece and might destroy an important reference. The first blade passed jûyô in 1977 and I have no information about when exactly the mentioned parts in the date were removed but it is not hard to imagine that somebody just saw a good jûyô candidate in the blade and didn’t do his homework, i.e. he stopped at counting the years the Karyaku era lasted and as that did not match what he saw in the date, had it removed. Incidentally, the NBTHK words its jûyô description in a way that might be interpreted as side blow by stating: “Date signatures are rare among this school what makes this tantô a valuable reference. However, it is truly regrettable that relevant parts in the date are hardly legible.” So maybe they knew that just by doing some more research on the Enju School, and I mean real research and not only superficial one as not all Enju smiths did this abbreviation thing of the year and month kanji, the initial mei could have been preserved.

And this is where the present-day and my very own efforts come into play again. What I try to say is that I have a certain mission, and that mission is to make available as much references as possible, either publically and for free via my site or for a reasonable price via my books (and eBooks). And this mission is very much about accessible data. Imagine the 1970s. You have this Kunisuke tantô and think it is a very good blade. So you bring it to all the meetings and people keep telling you that it is a jûyô candidate but some raise the issue of the date signature. So you try to do some research and buy all the relevant books (if you don’t have them in your library already). You find some Enju references of course but doubt remains and so you write some letters, yes, it was real letters back then, and people with only little more references than yourself quasi confirm your initial concern that the date is “doubtful” and that you might have it removed if you want papers, just “to be safe” so to speak and not to have it returned as “no pass.” So here we go and an important reference is lost forever (well, the early oshigata still exists but nobody knows for how long). I don’t say that my books are the end to all the problems, of course not, really, they might only be the start. But with start I mean a good start and maybe a better start than ever before, and we are talking about the West here. So now there is hardly any excuse for not doing your homework when thinking about having a signature removed and as this is Nihonto 2.0, I and other guys putting their entire lives into Japanese swords are just an email away. So if you have a question, have doubts about stuff in my books, and/or need further explanation on the one or other issue, just drop me a mail and we can proceed from there. And I am not the only one as mentioned. If you are still having a signature or parts of a signature removed because one or two parties told you so, it’s now, in 2016, more then ever your fault if it turns out that the mei was actually good and you were jumping into conclusions. Sorry for the harsh words but we really have to watch out not to loose any more references (as the majority of important blades has been discovered by now and you can take it for granted that on the concrete example of Kunisuke, not that many more are going to pop up that are dated). Of course, there are mei that need further study, gimei, and pretty obvious gimei and this entire post aims at the first one mentioned. Just to have that said as I am not talking about clumsy Kotetsu or Masamune gimei this time that can be identified as such immediately.

Dear Readers, I want to give you a brief update what is going on at the moment and what is partially propagated via Facebook and the Nihonto Message Board. First of all, we have a green light with the Nobuie project, the translation of a 40+ article series Itô Mitsuru san (the author of the three Higo books) published starting over 15 years ago in the Tôwa Magazine. I really (and I mean really) appreciate the fact that we have more than 60 participants in this project and I hope that we are able to maintain this “momentum” for other upcoming projects. As indicated, I have already started with working on the project and I will be provided with further (color) pictures from Itô’s collection of Nobuie tsuba. These pics are not featured in the original series but should show you our effort to make this project as comprehensive as possible (by adding more pictures for your reference). And I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate my friend Eckhard Kremers, the initiator of the whole Nobuie project, for being elected new president of the European Branch of the NBTHK.

Apart from that, I would like to inform you that I was just commissioned by the NBTHK with translating the catalog to the upcoming special exhibition on the Ishiguro School that will be held from July 27 to October 30th at the Sword Museum. A great honor of course for me and everyone who is into Edo kinkô and machibori should watch out not no miss this one as the Ishiguro School is so to speak as good as it gets in this respect.

In this sense, June will be pretty tight for me and I honestly thank you in advance for your understanding if certain things might take longer as usual. Well, I know that I have been quite slow lately but this is because I still work wholeheartedly on other projects too, like Fukushi and my very own Gendaito one. Also my Kantei series will be continued as I am writing the first chapter on the Nobuie School these days. And on top of that, I will be in Orlando next month and I look very much forward to meet my friends and all of you who make it to the show!

In the last Tôken Bijutsu, the May issue of 2016, Imoto Yûki (井本悠紀) introduces a gassaku, a joint work between Mishina Kaneyuki (三品金行) and the 11th generation Aizu-Kanesada (会津兼定), which is insofar very interesting as one side of the blade shows a kitae in itame mixed with mokume whilst the other side is in pure masame. Now some might wonder how to forge a blade so that one side has a completely different forging structure than the other one. But if you remember all the different blade constructions, it is actually pretty simple and I like to take this brief article of Imoto as an opportunity to elaborate a little on that and on the context of this gassaku.

Now first about the forging. We know several blades of Kanesada where he explicitly states on the tang that they are forged in hon-sanmai (本三枚), although he uses the term shin-sanmai (真三枚). For example, a katana that he made in Ansei four (安政, 1857) at the age of 20 which is featured in Toyama Noboru’s book on Kanesada that I had the honor to translate a couple of years ago (and which can be purchased here). And Imoto introduces a mei of Kanesada bearing that supplement which is dated Meiji 35 (明治, 1902) and which also comes with the information that he made it at the age of 66. As most of you know, the forging technique of hon-sanmai uses three different steels, two outer layers of kawagane, a shingane core, and an additional hagane at the cutting edge (see picture below). Usually the smith forges the two outer kawagane layers identically but from this gassaku we learn that one smith, Kaneyuki, forged the one layer whilst the other, Kanesada, forged the other one, by each of them sticking to their traditional technique (well, Kanesada also often worked in other kitae but masame was one of his trademarks). And the blade is also signed that way, i.e. Kaneyuki signing on the omote, the side which is in itame-mokume, and Kanesada on the ura, which is the one in masame. So either one of the two, and I assume it was Kaneyuki, took all the prepared steels, bundled them up (the process called tsukuri-komi [造り込み] or kumi-awase [組み合わせ]), and forged this bundle into a blade. The blade itself by the way is a hira-zukuri wakizashi with a nagasa of 39.4 cm, a sori of 0.7 cm, showing a nie-deki hamon where gunome sections are connected with notare and suguha-chô and which is mixed with togariba and plenty of kinsuji and sunagashi.

And as mentioned above, I want to elaborate on the context of this joint work a little. I have already stated in this article that Kanesada proceeded to Kyôto in the seventh month of Bunkyû three (文久, 1863) where he received five months later the honorary title Izumi no Kami (和泉守). The Mishina family was, as we know, so to speak in charge of handling the awarding of honorary titles with the court, expressed through their own special honorary title of Nihon Kaji Sôshô (日本鍛冶宗匠・日本鍛冶惣匠). Now we know from records that Kanesada worked in the tenth month of that year in the residence of Kaneyuki and it is assumed that such a stay belonged to the procedure of receiving a honorary title. In other words, the Mishina family probably wanted to see live the talent of the smith before forwarding any suggestions to the Imperial household. Usually, these stays are always described as “someone refining his craft in Kyôto” but most of the smiths doing so were already fully trained masters at the height of their career. This just as a side note.

Now Kaneyuki had studied with the 10th generation Iga no Kami Kinmichi (伊賀守金道) whom he later succeeded, under the name of Kinmichi, as 11th generation of that lineage. He himself had received his honorary title of Ômi no Kami (近江守) on the 20th day of the tenth month Bunkyû three (1863), i.e. at the very time Kanesada was staying in his house. Now we don’t know exactly when he succeeded as 11th generation Kinmichi (Fukunaga Suiken assumes it took place before Keiô two [慶応, 1866]) but what we do know is that the gassaku wakizashi is already signed with the additional honorary title Nihon Kaji Sôshô, which he had received from Kinmichi two months earlier, in the eighth month of Bunkyû three (1863). Also we know that Kanesada returned to Aizu in the second month of Keiô one (1865) what allows us to narrow down the production time of the undated gassaku wakizashi between the twelfth month of Bunkyû three (1863), the time Kanesada had received the title Izumi no Kami and by which the blade is signed, and the second month of Keiô one (1865) when Kanesada left Kyôto.

Last but not least I want to introduce another interesting anecdote in this context. In my above linked article on the last of the Kanesada, I mentioned that Kanesada witnessed the so-called “Hamaguri Gate Rebellion” (Hamaguri-gomon no hen, 蛤御門の変) which took place in 1864 and where royalists rebelled against the Tokugawa at the Hamaguri Gate of the Imperial Palace. Now in the course of this incident, the residence of the Mishina family caught fire and was seriously damaged (as were large parts of Kyôto, see picture below). After the rebellion was over, the Mishina family sent out letters to all their former students, who had scattered all over the country in the meanwhile by the way, not asking for but (by their choice of words) rather demanding a contribution to the reconstruction of their forge 😉

Looking something up the other day in the Kokon Mei Zukushi (古今銘尽), I also browsed through its fifth volume again, the one which introduces workmanships of different smiths. Doing so I remembered how the uncommon way many terms are written therein gave me quite a headache when I worked through this publication for the very first time. So in this sense, I thought that it might be of interest, for the kanji nerds out there so to speak, to present them here. The “list” is not very extensive and don’t worry, you don’t have to memorize them as they are no longer in use. Most of them are phonetic substitutes, whilst there are also some semantic substitutes. I point out the former via (PS) and the latter via (SS). Also, I am not talking about the use of old and unsimplified characters, an issue that I have addresses a while ago here. I am talking about the use of odd or rather very uncommon characters and/or substitutions. So in the brief list below, I will also add some explanations and as mentioned, this humble post is more for the kanji cracks.

bôhi (謀樋) – [棒樋] (PS): (謀) reads bô but means “plan, strategy”

funbari (釒本弘) – [踏張り] – This kanji (see pic below) is not found in any character set. It is composed of the metal radical left, and to the right of the character (本) on top of (弘). Thus the composition is kind of literal, i.e. “wide/broad” (弘) at the “base” (本), with the metal radical as its “sword-related classifier.”

gomabashi (護摩梯) – [護摩箸] (PS): (梯) reads hashi/bashi but means “ladder, stairs”

hada (膚) – [肌] (SS): actually means “skin/texture/grain” too but came out of use to refer to the jihada of a sword

jifu (地苻) – [地斑] (PS): (苻) reads fu but refers to a “kudzu-like plant”

kaeri (歸) – [返り] (PS): use of old variant of (帰)

kenuki (鑷) – [毛抜] – The opening in the tang of a kenukigata-tachi, i.e. (鑷) has the same meaning of “tweezers” but came out of use to refer to the kenukigata opening/interpretation.

kiriha/kiriba (刎齒) – [切刃] (PS): (刎) reads kiri but means “decapitate,” so still semantically related to kiri/kiru (切, “cut”). And (齒) reads ha but means “tooth.”

machi (関) – [区] (SS): (関) does not read machi but means what the machi are supposed to be, i.e. “barriers” between blade and tang

mune (𫒒) – [棟] (PS): (𫒒) reads mune and has to be taken literally, i.e. as “metal (金) hill (丘).” For example, the literal meaning of this term was also quoted with the charactes (刀背), i.e. “sword (刀) back (背)” whereas the two characters (刀背) were then again read as mune.

sujikai (直違) – [筋違] – Interesting case as we have here a coming together of several substitutes. First of all, the term sujikai originally referred to braces, i.e. slanting beams giving extra support between horizontal and/or vertical members of a timber frame, forming a X when mounted. Thus this term was initially written with suji (筋, “sinew, tendon,” or also something long and linear) and kai (交い, “alternate, cross”), referring to the X shape of the braces. But then this writing of the term (筋交い) was replaced by (筋違い), which reads suji-jikai in the strict sense, i.e. suji (筋) and chigai (違い, voiced jikai). Therefore we find this term, or the yasurime in question, sometimes quoted as suji-jikai. But even if replaced by (筋違い), the initial reading of sujikai of the characters (筋交い) was kept. In short, (筋違い) should also read sujikai but suji-jikai is not wrong of course. Back to the Kokon Mei Zukushi. Therein the term was so to speak “re-split-up” from suji-kai to su-jikai and the su (which should actually be suji [筋] and not just su) was replaced by the homophonic (直).

togariba (鋒刃) – [尖り刃] (PS): (鋒) reads togari, or rather tokari, but means “lance, pike, tip of sword.” So this is kind of literal too, i.e. something pointy (togaru, 尖る) like a tip or lance

yakiba (㓵) – [焼刃] – The etymological meaning of (㓵) is “sword” or “double-edged sword” but it also had the meaning of “edge of knife,” so that’s why it was used to represent the term yakiba.

yasuri (鈩) – [鑢] – This substitute is insofar interesting as it is the (simplified) variant (itaiji, 異体字) of the character (鑪) (note the different radical on the bottom left, i.e. 心 and 皿). In other words, (盧) gets replaced by (戸) and (慮) either by (呂) or (虑). So the character for yasuri (鑢) should actually be replaced by (鋁) and not by (鈩).

And below the two introductory pages in question of volume 5, just in case you want to do some deciphering yourself.

Today I want to review a recently published book, written by PhD Jon Andresen from American Art Swords. Title of the book is Analysis of the Iai Katana, published by Jon’s Androzo Publishing, and available via amazon. In his book, Jon approaches the katana, as mentioned in the blurp, analytically and his academic scientific background is very much reflected in this approach. Jon is also an iaidôka, a rokudan renshi to be specific, and thus he tackles the analysis of swords, and that is of iaitô and shinken as well, truly from the modern iaidô practitioner’s point of view.

The book is basically divided into three parts, i.e. bokutô, iaitô, and shinken. In the first part, Jon thoroughly analyses all aspects of the bokutô, with a main focus on the woods used, from traditional to modern Japanese sources to non-Japanese equivalents. And with thorough, I mean thorough, as this (I am speaking of ~ 50 pages) is the most comprehensive study on bokutô I have come across to this day. The second part is comparatively brief and addresses all basic and relevant points you have to know about iaitô whereas the third part on shinken is the main part of the book and comprises ~ 120 pages. In these 120 pages, Jon analyses and puts into relation measurements, weight, and bôhi grooves by using a dataset of 1,695 long swords from all periods. Through this analysis, you can see certain trends and relations of nagasa, kasane, weight, and presence or absence of bôhi, just to name a few factors, whereas the weight makes an important part of this analysis because as Jon says in the preface, to predict the weight of blades based on their nagasa was originally a major goal of this work.

This means, and borrowing from the preface, it was to be for the benefit of iaidô students who generally care about what swords weigh when information of the weight is usually omitted in descriptions on sites that sell swords. The book is rounded off by guidelines and tips on maintenance (and that applies to bokutô, iaitô, and shinken) and therefore I would recommend this publication to the serious iaidô aspirant who wants to get as much information as possible to make up his mind on the purchase of an as perfect as possible iaitô or shinken (in addition to what your sensei is recommending of course). In other words, studying Jon’s book gives you useful tips, and makes you aware of maybe never thought off aspects that you have to bear in mind when shopping for a sword that should fit you well and for a long time on your journey along the Way of Drawing the Sword. As indicated, the book places a firm focus and does not pretend to be anything else, thus do not expect to find in it any discussions on swordsmiths schools, workmanships, swords as collectibles, or iaidô techniques/kata and things like that . I just wanted to underline that because, from my personal experience as an author in this field, people often expect a “Swiss Army knife” approach.

Working on the German translation of parts of the current Tôken Bijutsu magazine I saw that Satô Kazunori (佐藤一典) points out a “habit” in the 24th part of his article series on Sendai swordsmiths that I would briefly like to introduce. The habit in question is a certain ligature, gôji (合字) in Japanese, that combines the characters Fuji (藤) and wara (原) to a single character that represents, obviously, the clan name Fujiwara. Now I don’t want to deal with the specific swordsmith, who is the Nidai Sôryûshi Tamateru (雙龍子玉英, 1820-1889) by the way, but suffice it to say that I first came across this habit years ago via his master Taikei Naotane (大慶直胤, 1778-1857). Naotane started rather early on in his career, i.e. around Bunsei (文政, 1818-1830) to drop the wara and sign the reference to the clan name Fujiwara just with Fuji (see my Shinshinto-Meikan, p. 135f). Later, i.e. around Tenpô (天保, 1830-1844), he signed Fujiwara as everyone else with two characters but changed towards the end of his career, i.e. around Kôka (弘化, 1844-1848) and Kaei (嘉永, 1848-1854) to the gôji ligature variant. So Tamateru obviously adopted this habit from his master.

Picture 1, from left to right: Naotane signing just with Fuji (dated Bunsei four, 1821), with Fujiwara (dated Tenpô eleven, 1840), and with the gôji (dated Kaei four, 1851)

When I say “came across via Naotane” above, I mean that I once wrongly read this gôji just as Fuji, i.e. I thought that he later returned to the habit of dropping the wara character again but was pointed out that he did add it by so to speak squeezing it into the the lower Fuji part (滕), that is squeezing it between the radicas (月) and (𣳾). So if you see a mei like the one in picture 1 right, you correctly read it (in this very case) as “Mino no Suke Fujiwara Naotane” and not “Mino no Suke Fuji Naotane.”

Picture 2: Naotane’s Fujiwara gôji (left) and how Tamateru signed it (right).

Explicit ligature was and is rather rare in Japan because when you combine two characters, you just get a new character and this is not regarded as ligature in the strict sense. However, there were some, but they mostly used for decorative or “underlining/emphasizing” purposes on temple inscriptions or talimans. Apart from that, and what we see sometimes today, Western units were adopted and made into gôji, for example (糎) for centimeter, Japanese senchi or senchimêtoru, composed from the characters (米) and (厘), and (粍) for millimeter, Japanese miri or mirimêtoru, composed from the characters (米) and (毛). In our field, you can come across such units gôji via certain papers, for example those issued by the Nihon Tôsôgu Kenkyû Kai and the Jûhô Tôken Kenkyû Kai (see picture below).

Picture 3: Details from a NTK and a JTK paper.

Dear Readers,

I just started, like last year, an Easter eBook Super Sale where ALL of my eBooks are reduced by 50%! This offer will be valid for a week so you have enough time to decide what you want. So fill up all your tablets (or PC´s) with all the important Nihonto and Tosogu reference material you need four your studies!

If you have any questions or can´t find the one or other book, don´t hesitate and contact me via my “markus.sesko@gmail.com”.

Thank you and a Happy Easter to everyone!

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/nihontobooks

I aplogize for the rather long time of nothing going on here but first there was travelling, and then an important project needed attention. And with this, I want to give you a brief report on the first reason for my blog absence, and that was the international conference on Japanese armor, Japanese Legacy II, taking place in Florence from February 25 to 27. Well, those of you who were there know that it was great but I want to use this report to create interest in our activities and maybe the one or other either joins the armor association NKBKHK, and/or attends the next meeting in 2018.

As mentioned, the conference was held over three days and the entire afternoon of the first day, Thursday, was spent at the famous Museo Stibbert. For me, it was the first time there and of course I agree with those who have been there, namely that it is a very very fascinating place! Now this first afternoon was so to speak the “warm-up” for the conference and the opportunity to study certain selected objects hands on, like for example several fine armor masks and teppô from the collection of the museum. Also shown to us was a very special armor (picture 1, the one in the middle) of which Francesco Civita, the curator at the Stibbert, was just recently able to confirm with experts from Japan its former wearer. Just a note at this point: I am not going into great detail as first, I don’t want to anticipate or rather interfere with possible reports and treatises by the persons themselves, and second, to create as mentioned an interest and to motivate people to participate in upcoming events and hear and see everything on the spot.

Picture 1: The armor in question and the accompanying helmet.

The second day of the conference, Friday, was started right in the morning and after a short introduction to the organizing party, the Life Beyond Tourism, which did a great job in perfectly organizing the whole three-day event, so a big thank you at this point!, Mr. Civita continued from the day before and gave us a lecture on not only this very armor but on armors used in the Shimabara Rebellion in general. He was followed by Jan Petterson who was speaking about Japanese matchlocks, but embedded into a case study of the Uesugi clan, giving us a great insight into the ups and downs of their fief and how this all like the financial crises affected, or rather not affected, the fief-employed gunsmiths. Present via Skype was Piers Dowding (Mr. Bugyotsuji for those who are on the NMB) who was unfortunately not able to make it for reasons of health. Hope you are doing well Piers! Jan was joined by Ian Bottomley who worked out in detail certain stylistic and technical similarities of Japanese teppô in view of the previous distribution of matchlocks throughout the Asian mainland. The second day was packed and start of the afternoon lectures was made by Japanologist Bas Verberk, curator at the Wereldmuseum Rotterdam. He gave us an insight into one aspect of his PhD research, namely on the comparison of armor masks to their Noh counterparts. Again, not going into details here, also because Mr. Verberk’s doctoral thesis is yet not finished, but this much I can say, there is no denying that certain inspirations took place as armorers surely did not suddenly start to produce masks out of an absolute artistic vacuum. Bas Verberk was followed by collector Aymeric Antien, who gave us, assisted by his fellow collector Luc Taelman (both contributing, amongst others, to the publication Helmets of the Saotome School which I had the honor to provide with translations a few years ago) an overview of the evolution of the Japanese helmet, with a main focus on the time from the 16th to the 17th centuries. An important thing I learned with Aymeric’s lecture: With great helmets it is just like with masterly swords, i.e. it is not just the interpretation, it is first of all the quality of the workmanship that has to be recognized to make observations when talking about the greatest of the masters. Mr. Antien finished his lecture the next day, Friday, and was followed by the researcher Francesco Grazzi from the ISC Florence (picture 2) who introduced to us the results of his metallurgical studies done in a non-destructive way through neutron diffration. These were only the first of a planned row of studies and aim is, to identify the forging and hardening methods of Japanese swords via this non-destructive way. And the conference was completed by another lecture from Ian Bottomley (picture 4), that is on the evolution of armor in general, but he also referred to certain aspects addressed by his lecturing predecessors.

Picture 2: Lecture by Francesco Grazzi

Picture 3: Jo (left) and Luc (right) telling us what we gonna hear at the conference.

Picture 4: Ian Bottomley

Not mentioned so far was Jo Anseeuw, our man when it comes to non-Japanese members of the NKBKHK. Jo deserves special thanks as he managed it to open for Western collectors a window to the Japanese armor society, making it possible that we have now a pretty solid and substantial base of members outside of Japan! So in this sense, I apologize if I have overlooked someone who too was responsible for making this great experience of the Japanese Legacy II happen, I thank you to all of you gentlemen (and ladies), and I am really looking forward to our next meeting!

And last but not least, I am also very happy that I was finally able to meet, on Sunday, with Francesco Marinelli and Massimo Rossi from the INTK (and to talk about swords, or about one tantô in particular). Again thank you very much for your small gift (that I enjoyed with my friends later in Salzburg) Oh and yes, I am also glad that I had added a couple of extra days to spend, romantically, in Florence 😉

Dear Readers, I am leaving for Florence to attend the Katchu symposium at the Stibbert so if you read this, I am probably already on my plane. I am looking very much forward to this meeting, to all the interesting stuff and insights, and of course also to make some new friends 🙂 Upon return, I will continue with the Kantei series by dealing with the Rai smiths in the vicinity of Kunitoshi, the Nakajima-Rai lineage, some of the more unknown Rai smiths, and will then arrive at the Ryokai lineage which goes into Nobukuni. Apart from that, I will start again an Easter eBook Sale in a little. In this sense, emails reponse might be slow and larger translations might have to wait until I am back in office, what will be on March 14th.

Oh, and before I leave. Something funny from a project that is about to be finished. It is one of those episodes that gives us a little understanding of how some of these Edo period masters worked:

Takahashi Kinai (高橋記内, ?-1696) was a tsuba artsist from Echizen Fukui. His first name was Gonbei (権兵衛) and it is recorded that he was skilled in carving the hard iron. It is said that he was openhearted and loved the sake and that he often had to stop working because of his episodes of heavy drinking. Once his daimyō wanted to have the roosters the fief bred depicted on a tsuba and placed an order with Gonbei, loaning him one so that he can study the bird in detail. Kinai let the rooster free in his house and watched it for several days whilst drinking. Well, he eventually ran out of sake doing so and short on money, he decided to sell the precious rooster to buy some more. The lord of the fief heard of this and bought the rooster back and decided that it should be better to lock up Kinai in his house so that the production of the ordered tsuba can finally move forward. Well, when Kinai was checked up on some days later, he was lying there completely drunk. They woke him up and he promised that he will deliver but being locked up in his house with every door and window shut, it is just too dark to make a tsuba he complained. So he asked for permission to open the windows half-way and also asked if he can have the rooster back for studying purposes. This was granted and Kinai eventually delivered a wonderful masterwork…