KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #16 – Rai (来) School 2

The successor of Kuniyuki was Kunitoshi (国俊) and when it comes to Kunitoshi, the first thing to address is the centuries old question if there were one or two generations. Now seeing this question from a chronological point of view, we learn that the earliest sword books, that are those which were compiled up the the mid-Muromachi period, list a single Kunitoshi and that this changed from the very end of the Muromachi through the Momoyama up to the beginning Edo period when two Kunitoshi smiths were introduced. And this approach of dealing with two smiths dominated until the 1970s when experts started to go more and more back to the view that there was actually just one Kunitoshi. But let me explain why it went that way. First of all, Kunitoshi enjoyed a very long life and was active for more than fifty years. We know date signatures from Kôan one (弘安, 1279) to Gen’ô three (元応, 1321) and there is one very famous blade extant which is dated Shôwa four (正和, 1315) and added with the supplement “made at the age of 75.” Thus we can calculate his year of birth as Ninji one (仁治, 1240) and although we don’t know when he died, we know that he made the Gen’ô three blade when he was 82 years old, or rather that he was still head of the school at that time because certain works from those late years were actually made by his sons or students (I will address this point later). So let’s assume that he died some time in the early 1320s for the time being. Second, it is only natural that his style changed over time, one the one hand just because of the fact that he was active for more than half a century, but on the other hand also because a certain stylistic change took place all over the country during his time.

Now the oldest sword publication, the often quoted Kanchi’in Bon Mei Zukushi from 1423 that bases on data collected up to the year 1316, lists only one Kunitoshi. Interestingly, it inserts on one occasion (there are two Rai genealogies in the book) a certain Kuninaga (国永) between Rai Kuniyuki and Kunitoshi but anyway, the manuscript for the book was written on the spot, i.e. in Kyôto, and at a time when Kunitoshi was still alive and head of the Rai school. Experts are not sure where to put this Kuninaga but some say he might have well been a Rai smith but who died young and acted thus only for a very brief period of time as head of the school and therefore he was later removed again from the genealogy. The other very old source, the Ki’ami Hon Mei Zukushi from 1381, also lists just one Kunitoshi and so does the Nô’ami Hon Mei Zukushi from 1483. But then come the Genki Gannen Tôken Mekiki Sho from 1570, the Keichô era (1596-1615) Keifun Ki, and first of all the influental Kokon Mei Zukushi, which was published in 1661 but goes back to data gathered up to 1611, which introduce “all of a sudden” two Kunitoshi. However, this is not surprising. It was the time when sword studies experienced a boom and a lot was written back then (and from the early Edo period onwards also actually published in larger print runs). But think about the limited data situation of those days. You have blades signed Kunitoshi with earlier dates which are all of one style and then you have blades signed Rai Kunitoshi with noticeably later date signatures which are all of a significantly different style. Of course you assume they were two smiths and that a shift of generations must had taken place at some point in time. And this approach was subsequently refined by introducing the nickname Niji Kunitoshi (二字国俊) for the former, as he signed in niji-mei, and Rai Kunitoshi (来国俊) for the latter, as he signed with the prefix Rai, and by the end of the 18th century, you get a construct like the Kotô Mei Zukushi Taizen which says the following: Niji Kunitoshi was the son of Kuniyuki and was born in Niji one (1240) and died in Kôei three (康永, 1344) at the very great age of 105 (according to the Japanese way of counting years). And Rai Kunitoshi was the son of Niji Kunitoshi. He was born Shôan one (正安, 1299), lived in Yamato province, signed from Kenmu one (建武, 1334) onwards with the prefix Rai, and died in Ryakuô two (暦応, 1339) at the young age of 41. With this as a basis, the complicated theory emerged that Niji Kunitoshi actually started his career by signing with “Rai Kunitoshi” and that it was his son who initially signed just with Kunitoshi. But then the son left for Yamato where he established his own branch of the school and where he too signed with “Rai Kunitoshi.” He died young and his father outlived him for some years, signing with “Rai Kunitoshi” throughout his entire career.

Anyway, this is and was seen as a nice anecdote and never made it much into mainstream discussions on the Rai Kunitoshi subject but I wanted to introduce it here for the sake of completeness and to underline how far things can go when an initially honest approach is fed here and there with tiny pieces of hearsay over time. But the Niji Kunitoshi and Rai Kunitoshi theory prevailed for a long time and even Honma sensei saw them first as two smiths, e.g. at the time when he wrote his Nihon Kotô Shi (the first edition was published in 1958 and is based on a thesis he wrote in 1952). He changed his view later and assumed that there was indeed only one Kunitoshi and also Tanobe sensei is of that opinion. This change in scholarship goes back to the fact that by that time, data and references were much easier accessible. That means, experts were and are no longer to restricted to some old manuscripts which were kept secret and only handed down within the own family and to a very limited stock of available Kunitoshi blades. Now you can bring all sources together and you are not only able to check hundreds of Kunitoshi blades for themselves but compare them with hundreds of blades of contemporary smiths and get a much clearer picture of what was going on back then. To sum that all up, Kuniyuki had a successor, Kunitoshi, who decided at a certain point in his career to sign his blades with the prefix Rai, the name of his family and school. Maybe he did so after his father had retired or died and the earliest dated work known that bears the prefix Rai is from the second year of Shôô (正応, 1289). He was already in his late 40s at that time what explains that he had enough time to sign in niji-mei like his father did. Thus the large quantity of extant niji-mei signed blades.

Let’s move on to the workmanship of Kunitoshi and although I go with the one smith theory, I will stay with the nicknames Niji Kunitoshi and Rai Kunitoshi, but that in a pure stylistic context, i.e. I will use terms like “Niji Kunitoshi phase” or “Rai Kunitoshi phase.” When we look at Kunitoshi’s entire body of work, we learn that he started continuing the style of his father Kuniyuki, turned that style into even more magnificent interpretations with a flamboyant hamon and an impressive tachi-sugata with ikubi-kissaki, and that he later changed towards more unobtrusive tachi with a suguha-based hamon and an elegant, slender sugata with chû or ko-kissaki. As indicated earlier, this specific stylistic change from magnificent and flamboyant to calm and slender can be seen at other contemporary smith and best example is Osafune Nagamitsu (長光) who can be seen as Kunitoshi’s “Bizen twin brother.” Both were the greatest masters of their region, both were working at exactly the same (dated works from Kunitoshi range from 1279 to 1321 and from Nagamitsu from 1274 to 1320), both were highly productive, and both were starting from where a previously dominating lineage had ceased to exist, i.e. Ichimonji in case of Nagamitsu and Awataguchi in case of Kunitoshi, with their fathers (Mitsutada [光忠] and Kuniyuki respectively) doing the first step. And as far as their skill and productivity is concerned, both are well represented among the Agency for Cultural Affairs designations: 17 for Kunitoshi (4 kokuhô and 13 jûyô-bunkazai), and 34 for Nagamitsu (6 kokuhô and 28 jûyô-bunkazai). And more than 200 blades of Kunitoshi are jûyô and about 30 passed tokubetsu-jûyô (not separating Niji Kunitoshi from Rai Kunitoshi). In comparison, about 150 blades of Nagamitsu are jûyô and a little over 20 are tokubetsu-jûyô.

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Niji Kunitoshi Phase

Going more or less chronologically from here, I first want to introduce some works where he so to speak picked up where his father Kuniyuki left. The tachi seen in picture 1 is designated as a jûyô-bunkazai and shows the magnificent and kind of stout sugata that was prevailing at that time, featuring a wide mihaba, no noticeable taper, a deep toriizori, and a compact ikubi-kissaki. The kitae is a ko-itame that tends to stand out a little and that shows plenty of ji-nie and a faint nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ô-chôji-chô in ko-nie-deki mixed with kawazu no ko-chôji, gunome, and many ashi and . The ha tends to slant along the upper half and the nioiguchi is rather subdued. The bôshi is a widely hardened midare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeri. Both sides feature a bôhi that runs with kaki-nagashi into the tang with on the haki-omote side a suken and a soebi over the rest of the length, engraved below of the shinogi. The ura side shows a koshibi with a kind of gem element and after that the same soebi. The tang is ubu, tapers only a little to a ha-agari kurijiri, shows kiri-yasurime, and a shinobi no ana at the tip. The ha is flamboyant and not that nie-laden and as the nie-utsuri tends to midare-utsuri in places, one might think of a Fukuoka-Ichimonji work at a glance. But although lesser in quantity and size, there is too much ko-nie and ha-nie for a Fukuoka-Ichimonji work and having a faint nie-utsuri with a little midare would be also be odd as we would expect to see a striking midare-utsuri all over on a Fukuoka-Ichimonji blade.

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Picture 1: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Kunitoshi” (国俊), nagasa 75.6 cm, sori 2.4 cm, motohaba 3.2 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, preserved in the Tôkyô National Museum

Next is the only dated blade known from Kunitoshi’s Nidai phase (see picture 2). This tachi is signed “Kunitoshi” and dated “Kôan gannen jûnigatsu hi” (弘安元年十二月日, “a day in the twelfth month Kôan one [1278]”). It has a wide mihaba, an ikubi-kissaki, and is a little shortened but keeps its magnificent sugata. The kitae is a ko-itame with ji-nie, nie-utsuri, and some jifu in places and the hamon is a ko-nie-laden chôji-gunome mixed with plenty of ashi and and some tobiyaki which even tend a little to nijûba in places. The elements of the ha tend to slant all over the blade and the boshi is midare-komi with yakitsume, i.e. it does not really have a kaeri.

RaiKunit2

Picture 2: tachi, mei “Kunitoshi” (国俊), date see text above, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, nagasa 77.9 cm, sori 2.3 cm, the blade is preserved in the Tôkyô National Museum and does not bear any designation of the Agency for Cultural Affairs

Picture 3 shows the meibutsu Torikai-Kunitoshi (鳥養国俊) which was once owned by late Muromachi period calligrapher Torikai Sôkei (鳥飼宗慶, please note that his family name is written with a different kanji for kai than the meibutsu) and ended up via a stopover at Hosokawa Yûsai (細川幽斎, 1534-1610) and his son Tadaoki (細川忠興, 1563-1646) as a heirloom of the Owari-Tokugawa branch. The blade is a kodachi and is today designated as a jûyô-bijutsuhin. It is truly stout and wide, measuring 60.3 cm in nagasa, but kind of elegant at the same time as it has a relative deep toriizori of 2.4 cm. We see funbari and an ikubi-kissaki and the kitae is a dense ko-itame with ji-nie and a nie-utsuri. The hamon is a wide and chôji-based midareba mixed with some gunome and which does not show much ups and downs. There are plenty of hataraki like ashi and and the entire yakiba is quite nie-loaden. The nioiguchi is bright, clear, and tight and the hamon gets wider along the monouchi and turns there into a hiro-suguha-chô. The bôshi is midare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeri and almost tends to ichimai and along the upper half of the blade we see connected muneyaki. The deki and the condition are outstanding and the Torikai is considered to be one of the best work from Kunitoshi’s Niji phase. There are only very few kodachi of him from this time extant but as mentioned in the last part, already his father Kuniyuki made some and so he too continued to take orders in this direction. The overall interpretation with the flamboyant hamon reminds of his “Bizen twin” Nagamitsu but there is too much ji-nie and a nie-utsuri present what speaks against Nagamitsu. And the bôshi is also different as Nagamitsu mostly hardened a so-called sansaku-bôshi.

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Picture 3: jûyô-bijutsuhin, meibutsu Torikai-Kunitoshi, kodachi, mei “Kunitoshi” (国俊), nagasa 60.3 cm, sori 2.4 cm, motohaba 3.03 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, preserved in the Tokugawa Museum

Now to a blade from Kunitoshi’s somewhat later  Niji phase that kind of anticipates the style of his upcoming Rai phase. The blade is still wide and magnificent but the kissaki is no longer straightforward ikubi and becomes chû and we see a hint more taper. The kitae is a dense ko-itame mixed with mokume and shows plenty of ji-nie and a nie-utsuri. The hamon is a calm suguha-chô, or hiro-suguha-chô if you want, in ko-nie-deki that is mixed with ko-ashi, slanting Kyô-saka-ashi (on the omote side), , some yubashiri-based nijûba, and much muneyaki. The nioiguchi is rather tight, bright and clear, and the bôshi continues as wide suguha with a ko-maru-kaeri and a hint of hakikake. This tachi can be difficult to kantei at a glance but if you have internalized this and the upcoming chapter, you should be able to see that it can only be a late work of Kunitoshi’s Niji phase because the sugata is still to magnificent for the Rai phase and the jiba is “too advanced” for Kuniyuki. Well, Rai Kunimitsu would be a good guess too as early works of Kunimitsu are often very close to Rai Kunitoshi but there are just not enough nie-hataraki for Kunimitsu and we would also expect an approach of gunome in his ha. Anyway, this is the style that so to speak served as a blueprint for the Rai School itself from here on and for its offshoots Ryôkai and Enju. Incidentally, the blade was once a heirloom of the Owari-Tokugawa family and comes with an origami of Hon’ami Kôchû from Hôei five (1708) evaulating it with 100 gold pieces.

 

RaiKunit4a

RaiKunit4b

Picture 4: tokubetsu-jûyô, tachi, mei “Kuni…” (国…), nagasa 77.0 cm, sori 2.6 cm, motohaba 3.0 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

 

But it must not be overlooked that Kunitoshi also went even more classical in his late Niji phase, for example as seen as in picture 5. This tachi is of an elegant sugata with a normal mihaba, a deep toriizori, and a chû-kissaki. The kitae is a dense ko-itame with plenty of ji-nie, fine chikei, and a nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden hoso-suguha with a little ko-gunome at the machi and faint nijûba accompanying the ha here and there along the ura side. The nioiguchi is rather tight and the bôshi is sugu with a ko-maru-kaeri. This blade too is difficult to kantei and could perfectly pass as Rai Kunitoshi. That means, this and the previous blade are precious references for us to realize that the late Niji and early or subsequent Rai phase are indeed very much overlapping.

 

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Picture 5: jûyô, tachi, mei “Kunitoshi” (国俊), nagasa 75.2 cm, sori 2.6 cm, motohaba 2.8 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

 

How about tantô from Kunitoshi’s Niji phase? There is actually only one tantô known, and that is the meibutsu Aizen-Kunitoshi (愛染国俊) which is signed in niji-mei (see picture 6). To my knowledge, all mumei tantô that are attributed to Kunitoshi are explicitly attributed to Rai Kunitoshi, i.e. to his Rai phase. And from his Rai phase on, tantô increase significantly in number. His father Kuniyuki made hardly any tantô and we can only guess why that was the case. My theory, as stated in the previous chapter, is that Kuniyuki was just active a little to early for the great “Kyôto tantô boom” that started with his colleague Awataguchi Kuniyoshi and that was then continued by Kuniyoshi’s successor Yoshimitsu. So I think that Kunitoshi jumped only later onto that fine tantô bandwagon, i.e. when he was already in his Rai phase. Back to the Aizen-Kunitoshi. The blade got its nickname from the kebori carving of the deity Aizen Myôô on its tang and right above the niji-mei. It was once owned by Hideyoshi and came via a stopover at the Tokugawa family into the possession of the Maeda which owned it until the Shôwa era. The blade has a wide mihaba and follows in terms of sugata very much the sunnobi-style tantô of Kuniyuki introduced in the previous chapter (picture 8), although it is a little shorter. It show a dense ko-itame with fine ji-nie and a nie-utsuri and a “wet” looking steel and the entire kitae is described as nashiji in the old text to the jûyô-bunkazai classification. The hamon is a notare-gunome-chô in ko-nie-deki that is mixed ko-midare, togariba, plenty of ko-ashi, and some tobiyaki and yubashiri. The bôshi is notare-komi to midare-komi with a rather pointed but irregular kaeri. On the omote side we see a suken and on the ura side a hatana-hi with a shorter soebi.

 

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Picture 6: jûyô-bunkazai, tantô, meibutsu Aizen-Kunitoshi, mei “Kunitoshi” (国俊), nagasa 28.75 cm, sori 0.24 cm, motohaba 2.7 cm, hira-zukuri, iori-mune, owned by Brast Sheave Co., Ltd., Ôsaka

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Now that should do it for today because I want to dedicate Kunitoshi’s Rai Kunitoshi phase a chapter of its own so that we don’t have one mega post and too much info at once. So stay tuned.

 

Cast Sword Fittings

There is a short report in the December 2015 issue of the Tôken Bijutsu that I read with great interest and that I wanted to work into a smaller article on my site. The report in question is about an early Edo period sword fitting workshop that was discovered during construction work for a new apartment building in the Yanagimachi (柳町) neighborhood which is located a little to the southwest of downtown Nara. Well, as so often, a lot of things are going on and I had to put that article idea aside but the other day, Ford Hallam put a link to a short YouTube video on Facebook that briefly shows some of the discovered items that were on display at a small local special exhibition on the find.  The video by Sankei News is neither long nor very detailed but you can see the items much better than in the black and white Tôken Bijutsu article and with this, I thought I better introduce that issue on my site too as next to nothing is known about such cast workshops.

First of all, the finds. Discovered were about 800 items and fragments related to tsuba casting and about 600 of such for menuki, the majority being kikka-sukashi models for tsuba and dragons for menuki. Also found were more than 200 spherical melting pots, some with handles, some with three legs, and fragments of copper and zinc were confirmed on some of them, the “ingredients” you need for making brass (shinchû, 真鍮). The Tôken Bijutsu report says that so far, it was thought that brass was not produced in Japan until the latter half of the 17th century (up to that time it was imported) and that this find, which is dated to the first half of the 17th century, obviously predates that assumed starting point of local brass production. According to the report, the Yanagimachi area where the workshop was found was not settled in the Keichô era (1596-1615) but we have records that at the latest by Kan’ei eight (1631), 21 so-called yakuya (役家) resided there. Yakuya were families who held land tenure on the basis of socage. It seems that not much is found in period records and the first historic document that goes more into detail is the Nara Zarashi (奈良曝) topography/local history of the town published in Jôkyô four (1687). Therein we read that at that time, 14 swordsmiths, 14 saya lacquer artists, and 17 sword polishers were living and working in Nara. And for Yanagimachi we find listed a swordsmith named Kichibei (吉兵衛), a saya lacquer artist named Kansuke (勘介), and a polisher named Kiya Gohei (木屋五兵衛), the latter most likely coming from the renowned Kiya family of sword polishers whose main line had been working (like the Hon’ami and the Takeya) for the bakufu. The source does not mention any sword fittings makers but the find of the cast workshop combined with the listed names and professions strongly suggests that a thriving sword manufacture community had existed in Nara during the early Edo period. The fact that only the first and not the smith name of the swordsmith (i.e. the alias with which he signed) is quoted might not mean anything but it could suggest, again with the cast workshop in mind, that he was one of the many below-of-the-radar smiths and this in turn brings me to another point that made we wonder whilst thinking about the discovery. Incidentally, when I checked the meikan to see which smiths worked at that time in Nara, I could not find any smith with the first name Kichibei/Yoshibei but again, this does not necessarily mean much as the first names of the lesser known smiths were often not recorded and fell into oblivion. And almost all Nara-based smith of that time, i.e. Kanbun and Enpô, were from the Monju School, i.e. the Sue-Tegai lineage that made it into the Edo period.

What made me wonder were the circumstances of the emergence of such small local sword manufactures who obviously did not produce “daimyô level” swords, or not even mid-level bushi swords. Well, smaller or larger sword manufactures under the jurisdiction of local feudal lords had always existed as not every fief or region was receiving from the large sword centers like Osafune or Seki of course and as the equipment of the own men had to be ensured no matter what. And also safe to assume is that the fittings of the tens of thousands of mass produced swords that were exported to Ming China (more details here) were equipped with the cheapest kind of fittings. I am not talking about special presentation and special order swords as they were surely of at least decent make. As mentioned in the linked article, contemporary records say that most of the export swords were made in Nara and Bizen but we are talking here about the early 1500s at the latest and with the ongoing Sengoku era and all what took place during the reigns of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, it is not unusual that many of the Nara-based manufactures had simply disappeared from the face of earth by a century later. So why were some of these relative cheaply producing workshops reemerging during the early Edo period and were still working when the general demand for swords was declining?

I think that this issue is linked to the then changes within the bushi class. So even if the demand for newly made swords surely declined from the end of the 17th century onwards, we are facing with the early 17th centuries’ continuous expansion and formulation of the Tokugawa-bakufu a certain change in the wearing of swords. It was the time when for the first time a “uniform” for all samurai was introduced and all things office-related – i.e. garments, hairstyle, swords – were dictated by the bakufu. Now each member of the bushi class from a certain rank upwards was required to wear the daishô pair of swords when on duty and rules were even stricter when operating in Edo (see also here). I don’t want to go too much into detail here about what sword form developed from what sword but as everybody knows, by the beginning of the Edo period, a samurai was wearing the typical daishô pair consisting of a katana and a wakizashi mounted in more or less matching koshirae. But before that time, i.e. pre-Momoyama and Sengoku, the uchigatana or katateuchi, the forerunner of the katana, worn by the lower ranking warriors and ashigaru was nothing more than a weapon and so to speak furnished in the minimum requirement to be used.

Saiendo

I want to cite the special case of the Sai’en-dô (西円堂) at this point to demonstrate what I mean. This side temple of the Hôryû-ji in Nara is a rare stroke of luck for the studies on Muromachi-period swords and mountings as it stored until recent times hundreds of weapons (see picture above) offered to it, or rather to the healing Buddha Yakushi-Nyorai (薬師如来) to which the temple is dedicated. At some of the swords the tsuba or other fittings were removed again later to reuse them on other swords but still many “intact” specimen have survived. The picture below shows what I meant with “minimum requirement,” that is, many of these basic uchigatana had no decorative elements whatsoever. They had a fuchi and kashira that held the hilt together, a kurigata for tying it with a cord to the obi, a kaerizuno so that the sword doesn’t slip out of the obi, and a rudimentary hilt wrapping. Some were equipped with a kozuka (most of the kozuka are missing so only the slots in the saya remain) and many did not even have a tsuba, i.e. were mounted in aikuchi style, and as many did not feature any menuki. As mentioned, these specimen show the very basic mounting that is necessary to make a sword use and wearable.

Uchigatana1

Such utilitarian swords basically disappeared with the disarming of the civilian population started by Nobunaga and finished by Hideyoshi, the so-called katanagari (刀狩り, “sword hunt”), and the subsequent regulations issued by the Tokugawa-bakufu. Whilst Nobunaga and Hideyoshi first of all sought to ensure with the katanagari that no one could take the country by force, Ieyasu’s rules were more about making sure that only the bushi class had nationwide the monopoly on violence, with the sword pair as easy-to-grasp symbol of being legally allowed to use physical force. From now on, it was unthinkable for even a lower ranking samurai to wear some kind of cobbled together uchigatana, no, you were required to wear a decent daishô when doing duty. Of course there were also semi-bushi class persons who ranked even lower and not every simple rural duty required a full daishô and as mentioned in an earlier article, there was no “sword police” going round that checked if every coutryside samurai had a sword with a proper tsukamaki for example and no plaintiff, no judge. So it was pretty much like if you are a soldier today doing duty on some desert base with just you and your guys all year long. Nobody complains if you show up in the morning with your shirt open. But the fun stops as soon as the base has a certain size or when you have to show up at another base. You don’t want to embarrass yourself or worse, your superior. Back to the early Edo period. Now every sword and short sword that was worn when on duty had to be equipped with a proper tsuba, tsukamaki, fuchigashira, and menuki. (Again, I am not talking about special cases, koshigatana with unwrapped hilts, swords in private collections etc. I am referring to the majority of swords.) Now comes some numbers game. It is estimated that the samurai class made up about 10% of the Japanese population. In the early Edo period, Japan had a population of about 12,000,000 to 18,000,000 and about steady 30,000,000 from Genroku (1688-1704) to the end of the Edo period. So if we start with 12,000,000, about 2,500,000 swords (daishô, thus times two the 10%) have been worn at any given day in the early, and about 6,000,000 swords throughout the later Edo period. Well, tsuba and sword fittings were of course reused and handed down in the peaceful Edo period but still, there must had been a production line for the cheaper swords and therefore it is in my opinion only logical to accept that there were many more of such cast workshops like the one discovered in Nara. I also think that the majority of these relative cheap fittings just did not survive or was melted down for casting metal fittings. Thus we are hardly talking about them today.

These are my initial thoughts on the matter for the time being and maybe some more sites are discovered in the future as it is hard to develop a proper theory on just that one find. Last but not least, some more pictures can be found in the Sankei article here. And thank you Ford for pointing out that video.

KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #15 – Rai (来) School 1

Now we are entering another of the great old Yamashiro traditions, that is Rai. I have summarized most of the traditions concerning the alleged school’s founder Kuniyoshi (国吉) a while ago here, for example that he was from Korea and became naturalized in Japan and that the school’s name Rai goes actually back to that context. Just one more note here, Honma points out that all the early Kyôto schools are either referred to as by and/or signed with the name of their production site, i.e. Sanjô, Gojô, Awataguchi, Ayanokôji. Only the Rai smiths used their family name what, according to Honma, somehow distinguishes them from the other local schools and what might suggest that they did not emerge from any of them. So we end up again at the immigration approach. Incidentally, the first smith who actually signed with the character for “Rai” was Kunitoshi but who was active towards the end of the Kamakura period. When we just stick to the facts then all we can say is that the Rai school emerged in the mid-Kamakura period and is stylistically most likely linked to the Awataguchi school, which had been the dominating Kyôto school of sword making at that time. Apart from that, experts see today Kuniyuki (国行) as founder of the school but that just on the basis of the fact that the earliest Rai works available go back to his hand. He was the son of the aforementioned Kuniyoshi who remains on paper the ancestor of the school. None of his blades have survived but there is a single puzzling blade going round – once owned by the sword polisher Hirai Chiba (平井千葉) that might be his work (see picture 1). Honma says, apart from that the deki is excellent, that the overall workmanship in suguha in ko-nie-deki mixed with ko-midare is clearly Kyô and about contemporary to Awataguchi Kuniyoshi but the mei is completely different from that of the Awataguchi master and that the mei can’t be brought in line with any of the other known Kuniyoshi smiths of that time, e.g. from Yamato. So Rai seems most likely but as even the old oshigata collections leave out Kuniyoshi, we just don’t have enough data to say for sure that the mei is that of Rai Kuniyoshi or not. Well, one of the very few oshigata of Rai Kuniyoshi can be found in the Kokon Mei Zukushi (see picture 2). It is a tantô with a furisode-style nakago and a slightly undulating suguha but the mei is not a definite match with the mei of the tachi in question, although it has to be mentioned that the signatures of early oshigata collections were captured with a certain artistic freedom (i.e. they were copied with the brush and not rubbed like we do it today).

Rai1

Picture 1: tachi, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 71.8 cm

Rai2

Picture 2: Rai Kuniyoshi as seen in the Kokon Mei Zukushi

Satô in turn introduces this tachi as being a work of the Rai ancestor and describes its workmanship as showing a sugata with an iori-mune, a koshizori, and a compact ko-kissaki with a slightly standing-out kitae in itame mixed with nagare, a hamon in suguha-chô that has a rather subdued nioiguchi and that is mixed with ko-midare and a few chôji and kinsuji, and a bôshi with a relative widely running-back ko-maru-kaeri. He also says that there is another tachi with an ubu-nakago of Rai Kuniyoshi extant but which is yakinaoshi. The oshigata shown in picture 1 also strongly suggests the existence of a prominent utsuri (maybe one of those antique looking utsuri with antai that is also seen on some blades of Awataguchi Kuniyasu and Ayanokôji Sadatoshi) and the tapering, strongly curved tang and the slender interpretation with the ko-kissaki speak for a blade that dates early Kamakura or to the transition from early to mid-Kamakura at the latest. Before we go over to Kuniyuki, I want to quote Tanobe on this matter as he says that the blade shown in picture 1 looks in terms of sugata and jiba surely older than Kuniyuki but even upon closer examination, he can not attribute the mei with reasonable certainty to Rai Kuniyoshi. But that is just how it goes, i.e. even if many indicators point towards Rai Kuniyoshi, we are talking about a single blade here with no other references to compare with whatsoever.

GenealogyRai

*

Thus we arrive at Kuniyuki (国行). He is traditionally dated somewhere between Jôgen (承元, 1207-1211) and Shôgen (正元, 1259-1260), but the former seems a bit early. That is because we know a blade by his alleged son Kunitoshi that is dated Shôwa four (正和, 1315) and that is signed with the additional information “made at the age of 75.” So Kunitoshi was born in 1240 and it is rather unlikely that Kuniyuki had the prime of his life 30 years earlier, i.e. in Jôgen. So something around Shôgen seems more fitting. By the way, the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen says that Kuniyuki died in Einin five (永仁, 1297) at the age of 79. So if we believe in this statement for a little, then he was 22 years old when Kuniyoshi was born. Anyway, the Shôgen era brings us right to an important aspect when talking about Kuniyuki, and that is that even if he was the actual founder of a school, we are, as mentioned, already in the mid-Kamakura period. So we are facing a different body of evidence than we did with the founding smiths of the Awataguchi school. These smiths were namely active from the end of the Heian to the very beginning of the Kamakura period, i.e. at least two generations earlier. In other words, the somewhat later active period makes a big difference when it comes to the pure number of extant works. But not only that, Kuniyuki entered the then sword world in a quite impressive manner because we are talking about more than two dozen blades that are jûyô-bunkazai or jûyô-bijutsuhin (one of them is kokuhô), more than 80 that are jûyô, and 17 that are tokubetsu-jûyô! So regardless of his scholastic background, he became without a doubt one of the greatest masters working in Kyôto at that time. Apart from that, his active time around the mid-Kamakura period also marks a noticeable shift from classical and elegant to powerful, and that applies both to sugata (e.g. ikubi-kissaki) and jiba. Accordingly, we have early works of Kuniyuki which are more unobtrusive and later works which are more magnificent and I want to introduce them in a chronological order. Incidentally, there are far more magnificent than classical blades of Kuniyuki extant.

The first two blades I introduce kind of connect to the aforementioned blade that is signed “Kuniyoshi” and to some of the Yamashiro/Kyôto masters who have been active a little earlier than Kuniyuki, e.g. Awataguchi Kuniyasu and Kunikiyo and Ayanokôji Sadatoshi. Blade number one shown in picture 3 is long, ubu, and of a slender and very elegant tachi-sugata but the (deep) toriizori (i.e. not koshi that bends down towards the tip) and the not that much tapering mihaba tell us that it is a mid and not an early Kamakura work. The kitae is a ko-itame mixed with mokume and nagare that shows plenty of fine ji-nie, much chikei, some jifu, and a nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha-chô that is mixed with ko-midare, ko-chôji, some angular elements, ashi, , uchinoke, fine hotsure, sunagashi, and kinsuji. The nioiguchi is rather wide and the bôshi is a shallow notare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeri with some fine hakikake. Please pay attention to the small crescent-shaped uchinoke that appear here and there right atop of the habuchi. These so-called karimata are often seen on works of the three above mentioned smiths, i.e. Kuniyasu, Kunikiyo, and Sadatoshi, and are one the one hand an important characteristic feature of Rai Kuniyuki, and on the other hand a strong stylistic indicator that connects him as indicated to the earlier masters.

Rai3

Picture 3: tokubetsu-jûyô, tachi, mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 82.7 cm, sori 3.0 cm, motohaba 2.8 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

The blade shown in picture 4 too shows a very elegant and slender ubu tachi-sugata with a prominent kijimono-style nakago. The kitae of the “wet-looking” steel is a ko-itame mixed with some ô-hada and nagare that features plenty of fine ji-nie, fine chikei, and a nie-utsuri. The hamon is a mix if ko-chôji ko-gunome and ko-midare that shows some ko-gunome and ko-notare along the upper half and that comes with plenty of ashi and , small and punctual yubashiri along the yakigashira, nijûba in the monouchi area, fine kinsuji and sunagashi, and plenty of ha-nie all over the blade. The nioiguchi is bright and clear and the ha gets somewhat thinner towards the base and along the upper half. The bôshi is sugu with much hakikake and the kaeri is so small that it almost appears as yakitsume. Again, please take a look at what is going on parallel and above to the habuchi and compare that with the blades introduced here and here.

Rai4

Picture 4: tokubetsu-jûyô, tachi, mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 76.6 cm, sori 2.7 cm, motohaba 2.75 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

 

Next a blade (see picture 5) that shows one of his other characteristic interpretations, and that is a suguha-chô with a large amount of smallish and densely arranged chôji which are accompanied by an abundance of ashi, , and karimata. Please note that none of the chôji protrudes prominently and that the ha is as mentioned perfectly suguha-based, i.e. overall straight with not much ups and downs (what distinguishes him from Ayanokôji Sadatoshi as he applied more ups and downs along the ha and apart from that, his bôshi usually shows prominent hakikake). This interpretation, also due to the fact that some jifu appears, might remind of Ko-Bizen at a glance but the sugata would be different as Ko-Bizen blades usually come with a koshizori that bends down towards the tip and also karimata are not associated with Ko-Bizen. And the bôshi is a hint to wide for Ko-Bizen. This blade of Rai Kuniyuki by the way was once a heirloom of the Ogasawara family (小笠原), the daimyô of Buzen´s Kokura fief (小倉藩).

Rai5

Picture 5: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 74.5 cm, sori 3.0 cm, motohaba 2.5 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Another of the very typical interpretations of Kuniyuki is seen in picture 6. This is his only work that is designated as a kokuhô and the blade is regarded as one of his greatest masterworks. The bôhi runs as kaki-nagashi into the tang and there is a mekugi-ana at the tip of the tang but this ana is a so-called shinobi-ana and the nakago is indeed completely ubu (also proven by the sankozuka-ken that is carved as relief in the hi which is exactly where it was intended to be, i.e. not half-way in the tang). The blade has a wide mihaba, does not taper much, has a relative thick kasane, a toriizori, and a stately chû-kissaki. The kitae is somewhat standing-out but dense ko-itame with plenty of ji-nie, some ô-hada along the haki-omote side, and a midare-utsuri. The hamon is a wide and ko-nie-laden suguha-chô that tends a little to notare along the monouchi and towards the yokote and that is mixed with ko-chôji, ko-midare, many ashi and , karimata, and at this blade, we see something that should become a characteristic feature of his school, and that is muneyaki. The bôshi tends to notare-komi and has an ô-midare-kaeri with hakikake and the nie are a hint more emphasized in the bôshi than in the rest of the ha. The blade was once a heirloom of the Matsudair family (松平), the daimyô of Harima´s Akashi fief (明石藩), and is thus also nicknamed Akashi-Kuniyuki (明石国行). Today it is owned by the NBTHK.

Rai6

Picture 6: kokuhô, tachi, mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 76.6 cm cm, sori 3.0 cm, motohaba 2.95 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Picture 7 shows one more stylistic approach of Kuniyuki and that is an almost pure suguha or a suguha-chô which is mixed with fewer elements and/or shows some shallow notare over its length. The blade is designated as a jûyô-bijutsuhin and has its mei preserved via orikaeshi. The tachi is rather wide, does not taper much, shows a toriizori, and ends in a stately chû-kissaki. The ha is mixed with some ashi and plenty of all over the blade and most of the mixed-in ko-midare focus on the very base, that means, right after the koshi the ha appears almost as pure suguha. Interesting here is that we see prominent nijûba before the yokote and throughout the sugu-bôshi, which runs back with a neat ko-maru-kaeri (or almost a chû-maru-kaeri on the haki-omote side). The nijûba are insofar very interesting as they connect him on the one hand to Awataguchi Kuniyoshi (see here), and on the other hand as this element was taken by his son-in-law’s son Kunimura (国村) to Higo where it was continued by the local Rai offshoot, the Enju school. But Enju works would show some masame along the hada and a shirake-utsuri.

Rai7

Picture 7: jûyô-bijutsuhin, tachi, orikaeshi-mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 69.7 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Now to another noteworthy aspect in Rai Kuniyuki’s oeuvre, and that is that there are apart from a couple specimen hardly any tantô extant by him. This is insofar interesting as his contemporary Awataguchi Kuniyoshi was a great tantô master and produced quite some and so did their successors Yoshimitsu and Rai Kunitoshi respectively. There are also no tantô of Ayanokôji Sadatoshi known and neither are much of pre-Awataguchi Kuniyoshi smiths (with the exception of Hisakuni). So with this and the aforementioned stylistic proximity to Sadatoshi in mind, it is conceivable that Kuniyuki has been active just a hint earlier than Awataguchi Kuniyoshi (who is dated around Kenchô [1249-1256]). But this is very speculative as it is quite possible that he made a decent number of tantô but which just did not survive. Anyway, I want to introduce one of these extremely rare Kuniyuki tantô, a blade that makes one think of Nanbokuchô or beginning Muromachi at a glance. It has a sunnobi-nagasa of 30.7 cm, a sori of 0.2 cm, and is in hira-zukuri with a mitsu-mune and a wide mihaba of 2.8 cm. The kitae is a dense itame that is mixed with some ô-hada in places and that shows jifu and plenty of ji-nie. The steel is clear and the hamon is a ko-nie-laden ko-notare with a wide nioiguchi that is mixed with gunome, ashi, , shimaba, kinsuji, fine sunagashi, and yubashiri. The bôshi is midare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeru with a few hakikake and kinsuji. Both sides bear a katana-hi with tsurebi and the tang is ubu. So this entire interpretation (sugata and jiba with much midare) seems to anticipate the style of Rai Kunimitsu and Kunitsugu, i.e. even skipping his son Kunitoshi. The blade was once a heirloom of the Shimazu family (島津), the daimyô of the Kagoshima fief, and was given to them by shôgun Tsunayoshi on the occasion of the marriage his adopted daughter Takehime (竹姫, 1705-1772) to Shimazu Tsugutoyo (島津継豊, 1702-1760) in Kyôhô 14 (1729).

Rai8

Picture 8: tokubetsu-jûyô, tantô (modern classification is wakizashi), mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), measurements see text

Apart from that, there are a few stout kodachi and, what seems to be, uchigatana of Kuniyuki extant. Picture 9 shows such an uchigatana (it is according to the modern classification a katana) and signed so, i.e. in katana-mei, and was thus worn edge up. The blade is wide and stout, ends in an ikubi-style chû-kissaki, and features unlike his tachi a koshizori. The kitae is overall rather standing out and covered with ji-nie and appears on the omote side as itame, and on the ura side along the lower half as itame-masame and on the upper half as ko-itame mixed with mokume. There is a vivid midare-utsuri and the hamon is a notare-chô in ko-nie-deki with a wide nioiguchi and is mixed with chôji, gunome, and many ashi and . The bôshi is midare-komi with a somewhat “tied up” looking kaeri. On both sides we see a wide bôhi with soebi and the tang is a little suriage. So with the relative flamboyant interpretation with midare-utsuri we might think of Bizen for a moment but there are just too many nie for a Bizen work of that time, i.e. of the mid-Kamakura period.

Rai9
Picture 9: jûyô, uchigatana, mei “Kuniyuki” (国行), nagasa 61.25 cm, sori 1.6 cm, motohaba 3.05 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Last but not least I want to recommend taking a look at the pictures at Darcy’s site here to get an impression of the steel and the almost “supernatural” forging quality we are talking about here. And I want to close by quoting Darcy that “this kind of sword is what shows us that the Kamakura period was truly the golden age of sword making.”

KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #14 – Aburanokôji (油小路) School

Strictly speaking, Aburanokôji does not refer to a school in the proper meaning of the word but to a loose group of swordsmiths which was active somewhere along Kyôto’s Aburanokôji street. This street runs in a north-south direction and parallel (and pretty close) to the Horikawa-dôri that passes Nijô Castle to the east. Satô Kanzan mentions that the group was working near the Ayanokôji School and when we take a look at the map of Kyôto we learn that the Aburanokôji crosses the west-east running Ayanokôji street somewhere halfway between Nijô Castle and the Nishi Honganji. The meikan associate the Aburanokôji smiths with the Awataguchi School but the workmanship and other genealogical considerations suggest that they were rather linked to the Ayanokôji School, thus my brief detour into geographical details.

Well, when we look into the meikan, only a handful of Aburanokôji smiths can be found, so this group was pretty minor. And when we take a look at these few smiths we learn that half of them are dated into the late Kamakura period, to be precise around Shôô (正応, 1288-1293), and the other half into the early to mid Nanbokuchô period, i.e. around Kenmu (建武, 1334-1338) and Enbun (延文, 1356-1361). And not really a connection is drawn between these “sub groups.” Anyway, one clue on the affiliation of this group is offered by the Kokon Mei Zukushi which introduces the smith Tadaie (忠家) in the Ayanokôji genealogy, namely as son of Ayanokôji Sadaie (定家) and as being active around Enbun. The meikan list Sadaie as son of the famous Ayanokôji Sadatoshi and mostly date him around Kagen (嘉元, 1303-1306). The Kokon Mei Zukushi says that he was active around Shôô (正応, 1288-1293) and Einin (永仁, 1293-1299), so not that far away from Kagen. Enbun seems a bit too far from Kagen (or even Einin) for Tadaie being the son of Sadaie but when we look again at the actual genealogy of the Kokon Mei Zukushi, we learn that a “daughter” is slid-in between Sadaie and Tadaie. This most likely means that Sadaie did not have a son but adopted his grandson as heir. And with this in mind the about 50~60 years of difference between Sadaie and Tadaie don’t sound that bad anymore.

Now there is a tantô extant which is signed “Aburanokôji Tadaie tsukuru” (油小路忠家造) and dated “Enbun sannen chûshun no hi” (延文三年仲春日, “a day in the second month Enbun three [1358]”) (see picture 1). This tantô is the only blade known by Tadaie and is not only a very precious reference piece for this smith but also for the entire group as it actually bears the name Aburanokôji in the mei and as it is dated. Experts assume that the Tadaie who is listed at the end of the Kokon Mei Zukushi’s Ayanokôji genealogy refers to the maker of this tantô, Aburanokôji Tadaie, and this assumption is not solely based on the identical name and the identical nengô (i.e. both genealogy and tantô say Enbun) but also on similarities in workmanship. That is, although this tantô comes in a pretty obvious Enbun-Jôji-sugata, i.e. in a sugata we won’t associate with the classical Ayanokôji School at a glance, both jigane and hamon are basically following the Ayanokôji forging tradition. The kitae is a stanting-out itame with nagare and masame towards the ha and ji-nie as well as some shirake appear. The hamon is a hoso-suguha in ko-nie-deki and the bôshi features a short ko-maru-kaeri. The omote side shows a katana-hi with below a suken as relief and accompanied by a soebi, and the ura side a shôbu-hi. Incidentally, this blade was once a heirloom of the Tsuchiya family (土屋), the daimyô of the Tsuchiura fief (土浦藩) of Hitachi province. Later on it was owned by the Shizuoka Prefecture industrialist Yabe Toshio (矢部利雄, 1905-1996) who had a pretty impressive collection (e.g. he also owned the famous yari Tonbogiri).

Abura1

Picture 1: tantô, mei “Aburanokôji Tadaie tsukuru – Enbun sannen chûshun no hi,” nagasa 28.4 cm, sori 0.3 cm, hira-zukuri, iori-mune

Apart from that tantô, we know, or rather knew, a jûyô-bunkazai tachi signed “Tadayoshi” (忠吉) that is attributed to Aburanokôji Tadayoshi (see picture 2) Incidentally, there was obviously a third character below “Tadayoshi” but which is lost due to corrosion. So the blade was originally most likely either signed “Tadayoshi saku” or “Tadayoshi tsukuru.” The tachi was owned by the Suwa-taisha (諏訪大社, Nagano Prefecture) but was unfortunately stolen and its whereabouts are unknown. It has a koshizori that bends down towards the tip, a ko-kissaki, and shows a standing-out itame with some nagare, ji-nie, and a midare-utsuri. The hamon is a suguha-based chôji in nie-deki that is mixed with kawazu no ko-chôji and kinsuji. The elements of the ha are rather smallish and densely arranged and the nioiguchi is subdued. The bôshi features a ko-maru-kaeri but almost tends to a kuzure-like ichimai. The tang is suriage and has kiri-yasurime. So like the tantô introduced above, the workmanship of this tachi does not link to Awataguchi at all, as the meikan suggest for the affiliation of these two smiths. By the way, it is said that Tadayoshi, who is dated around Kenmu, was the father of Tadaie. If this is true and we want to bring that in line with the genealogy of the Kokon Mei Zukushi, Tadayoshi must have been married to Ayanokôji Sadaie’s daughter.

Abura2

Picture 2: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Tadayoshi” (忠吉), nagasa 74.3 cm, sori 2.4 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Well, what about the other Aburanokôji smiths who appear in the meikan? There was an Aritada (有忠) who is dated to the Jôji era (貞治, 1362-1368) who was most likely linked to Tadayoshi and Tadaie. Apart from that, we find a Tadatsugu (忠次) and a Sadakage (定景) who are both dated around Shôô (正応, 1288-1293). The use of the characters “Tada” and “Sada” do suggest a connection to Ayanokôji (e.g. Sadatoshi, Sadayoshi, Sadaie) on the one, and to the later Aburanokôji group (e.g. Tadaie, Tadayoshi, Aritada) on the other hand. But due to the lack of extant works and records, I have to end this brief chapter here and with the next part we arrive at a very successful Yamashiro school, namely at Rai.

The Momoyama Era Art World

With a focus on Sôtatsu, Kôetsu, and Myôju

When I was in DC over the Thanksgiving weekend, it goes without saying that I visited the ongoing Sôtatsu: Making Waves exhibition at the Freer and Sackler Galleries. Outstanding works of art from a time in Japanese history which I like very much, especially as my favorite tsuba maker and one of my most favorite Japanese artists were active then, Umetada Myôju (埋忠明寿) and Hon’ami Kôetsu (本阿弥光悦). Back home, I was once again going through some of my earlier drafts to remember how they all, i.e. Sôtatsu, Kôetsu, and Myôju were connected and whilst I was bringing together and restructured half-finished articles, I thought I better post the result on my site rather than leaving it, again, hidden somewhere on my HD. In this sense, I would like to proceed by introducing each of the artists for himself and working out their relation at the end of each corresponding section. But first of all, I would like to introduce an artwork from the exhibition which impressed me the most, and which is not even by Sôtatsu himself (it is from his studio).

Sotatsu1

Sotatsu2

It has the brief title Trees and is a pair of six-panel folding screens that depicts a variety of evergreen trees lined up across a gold-foil ground, to quote from the catalog. One of the screens is filled with trees whilst of the other more than half is left empty, leaving just the golden ground as decorative element. The trees are interpreted in a very realistic manner and even if the emphasis is on presenting the widest variety of evergreens, they go so perfectly together as if you are standing in front of a forest that naturally grew that way. You just have to see it in person, that means from the distance it was meant to be appreciated, namely in a dimly lit room with the gold acting as intensifier for each and every light source and being so to speak a true successor of the grandeur of the Momoyama era (the screens are dated to the Kan’ei era [1624-1644] by the way). That means, the decorative effect is kept but the realistic interpretation already goes in a different direction, away from the bold interpretations of the Momoyama era. For a better understanding of the art, and of paintings of the Momoyama era in particular, you must not only focus on what was going on at that time but you also have to look back. In the Kamakura period, painting had been very much influenced (and commissioned) by the clergy, or had been narrative, but the China-orientation of the Ashikaga-bakufu during the Muromachi period created a boom in secular paintings depicting just landscapes, the four seasons, trees or flowers for example, all of that primarily drawn from trigger words of Chinese legends. In the course of this development, painters eventually started to go “fully secular” towards the end of the Muromachi period. For example, screens with not just legendary Chinese but with concrete Japanese sites appeared that were made for not more and not less than admiring domestic beauties of nature. Of course, the effect of many of these paintings was intensified with the help of Japanese sentiments, i.e. a solitary pine on a rock was not just a beautiful pine but alluded to loneliness. You get the picture. This impressionistic approach runs like a continuous thread through all of Japan’s high art anyway, first by formulated scenes from the classics, later merely by allusions.

Then the chaos of the Sengoku era was ended by Nobunaga and his successor Hideyoshi and a phase of prosperity and extraordinary amount of construction took place. That means, when Nobunaga finally ended all the mess that was going on due to the power vacuum left by a weakening to virtually non-existing Ashikaga-bakufu (and local hegemons getting stronger and stronger, trying to come into power) and Hideyoshi continuing his policies, people, especially in Kyôto, felt that this might be peace after all. I mean, Hideyoshi’s campaigns to unify the country were still going on until 1590 but that concerned first and foremost the more remote regions like Kyûshû and Kantô. At the same time, the mentioned local hegemons constructed enormous castles and residences to underline their status, capability and wealth, and this is especially true for Hideyoshi and his projects in and around Kyôto. In addition, Nobunaga and Hideyoshi have sponsored renovations and reconstructions of countless palace and religious facilities to get as an exchange court titles and lands. And all this lead to a unprecedented number of patrons who were more diverse than ever before. Now not only the bakufu employed artists like that of the Kanô and Tosa Schools were thriving but independent artists were able to get a foot in the door and that more or less just on the basis of their talent (and the ability to sell oneself of course).

Eitoku

Chinese Lions, Kanô Eitoku, Imperial Household Collection, Late 1580s

Kongoji2

Landscape with the Sun and Moon, jûyô-bunkazai, unknown artist, mid-16th century, Kongôji (Ôsaka Prefecture)

It has to be mentioned that the course was basically dictated. That is, all the golden screens and paintings with their prima facie easy-to-grasp ornamentation were born to a certain extent out of the need to create artworks that are visually perceptible and appreciable from a certain distance for the ever growing rooms and halls. One of the greatest trendsetters was, of course, an established, prestigious painter from one of the main lines, Kanô Eitoku (狩野永徳, 1543-1590), who had the honor of working directly for Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. But even Eitoku, see picture above, referred to extant interpretations like for example to the early Muromachi period Landscape with the Sun and Moon screens from the Ôsaka Kongô-ji that already introduces some gold (see bottom picture above, and don’t compare the two screens directly, just their aesthetical concept). So as indicated, the ornamental path was kind of laid out, i.e. the Momoyama artists did not start to paint in that ornate way out of the blue, but it was the unique background of peaceful and thriving Momoyama-era Kyôto that created such a highly fascinating momentum in Japanese art history. And this does not only apply to paintings but also two sword fittings. One of the first (and probably the most famous) of the new and independent, that means non-bakufu employed painters, was Hasegawa Tôhaku (長谷川等伯, 1539-1610). Tôhaku was a professional painter from Noto province who moved to Kyôto to study under the Kanô School and when his contemporary Eitoku died in 1590, he found himself as official painter for Hideyoshi. His most representative “Momoyama Kanô-style” work is shown below. Well, many many books have been written on each of these artists and aspects and I tried to break down the background of the Momoyama era (visual) art world as much as possible for the introduction to this humble article.

Tohaku

Maple, kokuhô, Hasegawa Tôhaku, 1592/93, Chishaku’in (Kyôto)

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Tawaraya Sôtatsu

And with this we arrive at Tawaraya Sôtatsu. Surprisingly little is known on the person Sôtatsu for an artist of his influence (three of his works are designated as kokuhô for example). First of all, we don’t know when he was born and when he died but as his son and successor Sôsetsu (宗雪) was granted with the honorary Buddhist title of Hokkyô in Kan’ei 19 (1642), a title that had been granted before to his father, it is assumed that Sôtatsu had either died shortly before or retired and died shortly later as Sôsetsu moved for good to Kanazawa the following year. The first time Sôtatsu appears in written history is when he was repairing famous late Heian sutra scrolls for Fukushima Masanori (福島正則, 1561-1624) in Keichô seven (1602). Masanori was at that time the daimyô of the Hiroshima fief of Aki province and the scrolls, that were preserved in the local Itsukushima-jinja, so to speak under his jurisdiction. So Masanori paid for the repair work but did not go to Kyôto himself to pick a fan painter (more on that soon) to work on “his” treasured scrolls. It was the Kanô school painter Kaihô Yûshô (海北友松, 1533-1615) and favorite of Hideyoshi and Emperor Go-Yôzei (後陽成天皇, 1571-1617) who had travelled to the Itsukushima-jinja in 1598 to study the famous scrolls. So it was him who “convinced” Masanori to have them repaired and it is safe to assume that it was him too who suggested a capable artist to go with for this project. Anyway, we know that Sôtatsu ran the Tawaraya (俵屋) at that time, a painting shop that – unlike the large, bakufu and court serving Kanô studio – focused on ready-made objects. The Tawaraya, Sôtatsu’s family name was Nonomura (野々村) by the way, was first and foremost a fan shop but also sold smaller art objects like hanging scrolls and poetry sheets. Back then, quite an importance was attached to fans. They were a fashion accessory that not only demonstrated style but to a certain extent also social status and the very mood at that day. They were also perfect gifts as their decorations often bear subtle messages, transported through visual quotations from classical literature, narratives of war, and romance, to use again words from the catalog to the Sôtatsu exhibition. With the Tawaraya’s customer base in mind, i.e. the local machishû (町衆), the Kyôto upper class to put it simply, it is understandable that artistic objectives were set very high. I mean, these customers were well-versed in art and the classics and to not hold up to ridicule among their circles, they were only going for the best of the best. We don’t know much about the ventures of Sôtatsu in the first two decade of the 17th century but we do know from records that at the latest by Genna two (1616), Emperor Go-Mizunoo (後水尾天皇, 1596-1680) was aware of the work produced by the Tawaraya. Also we know that Sôtatsu had became a very close friend of courtier, poet, and painter Karasumaru Mitsuhiro (烏丸光広, 1579-1638) by then and it is assumed that it was Mitsuhiro who provided all the good connections. It is unclear when Sôtatsu had fully arrived in court circles but usually the Genna era (1614-1625) is quoted in this respect. In 1630, he received the aforementioned honorary title of Hokkyô, a great and unusual honor for an “outsider” artist like him and by then, he had virtually became a court painter, carrying out commissions for the highest of the highest clientele.

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Koetsu

Hon’ami Kôetsu

Kôetsu (see picture above) was born in Eiroku one (1558) into the prestigious Hon’ami family of sword appraisers and sword polishers to the bakufu. The Hon’ami lineage into which Kôetsu was born, the Kôji (光二) lineage, was primarily working for the wealthy Kaga Maeda family, receiving impressive 200 koku per year. Kôetsu however, the second generation of the relative young Kôji lineage, did not focus that much on swords but turned out to be an allround artist and besides calligraphy, he was a passionate potter, a lacquer artist, publicist, and follower of the tea ceremony, mastering each of these arts entirely. By the way, it is assumed that he had passed on all his professional sword obligations to his adopted son-in-law Kôsa (光瑳, 1574-1637) who succeeded as third generation Kôji-Hon’ami. When it comes to painting, there is the theory that Kôetsu has been a student of the aforementioned Kaihô Yûshô and that it was the latter who introduced him to Sôtatsu. Like it is the case with Sôtatsu, Kôetsu’s exact connections remain to a certain part unknown but what we do know is that he was independent by nature, and a versatile genius with an unfailing sense of taste. So whilst Kôetsu was strengthening his cultural and business relations in Kyôto in the decade after Sekigahara, Ieyas was about wiping out the remaining important members and abiders of the Toyotomi clan. And when he finally did so by capturing Ôsaka Castle in 1615, he offered Kôetsu an official position in the bakufu for 300 koku per year, 100 koku more than the Maeda were paying him. But Kôetsu declined with thanks as he avoided going to Edo by all means as the new and hardly developed capital was then totally uninteresting for an artist like him. As “compensation,” Ieyasu granted him a plot of land, Tagamanine (鷹峯), located on the northern outskirts of Kyôto and on the northeastern slopes of Mt. Daimonji (about 5 miles from present-day Kyôto Station). Well, there are now two approaches to explain this gift: One says that it was really a gift of Ieyasu, the lands of yielded later decent 176 koku per year and had tax exempt status. But the other one says it was more like an exile to keep Kôetsu out of Kyôto politics because Ieyasu did not fully trust him. One of Kôetsu’s close friends namely, tea master and warrior Furuta Oribe (古田織部, 1544-1615), had just been forced to commit seppuku because of his alleged loyalty to the Toyotomi so everyone with whatsoever ties to this family was treated by Ieyasu with suspicion. Anyway, Kôetsu turned Takagamine into an artist community with a relative strong religious touch, housing more than 200 residents and also agricultural fields. Incidentally, the records differ on the size of Takagamine and either list 30 or 25 ha for the entire plot. Invited to live there and provided with a house were for example Kôetsu’s paper and brush makers, makie artists, members of his own family and of the Hon’ami main line, and the wealthy draper Ogata Sôhaku (尾形宗伯, 1570-1637) who had excellent relations to the Imperial family and who also was Kôetsu’s nephew. Sôhaku’s father Dôhaku (道伯) was married to Kôetsu’s older sister and his grandson Kôrin (光琳, 1658-1716) went down in history as name giver of the Rinpa School (琳派) of painting. Sôtatsu’s collaboration basically took place before the establishment of Takagamine but some of the last joint artworks date 1615 or shortly after. Recent studies strongly suggest that both artists must have worked simulatenously in a session or at least very closely together on these artworks, the famous scrolls with the gold and silver paintings (by Sôtatsu) and poems (by Kôetsu). (I have used one of them, the Crane Scroll, which is pre-1615 by the way, as cover for my book on the Hon’ami family.) Incidentally, we find on the map of the allocations of the houses in Takagamine the name of the weaver Hasuike Tsuneari (蓮池常有) of whom some assume that he was somehow related to Sôtatsu. Reason for this assumption is that Sôsetsu’s successor of the Tawaraya, Sôsetsu (相説), was from the Kitagawa family (喜多川) and the Kitagawa were a branch of the Hasuike.

Takagamine

Takagamine as seen in the Miyako Meisho Ezu (都名所絵図, 1780)

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Umetada Myôju

Myôju was born in the same year as Kôetsu, Eiroku one (1558), and his family too was working on a hereditary basis for the bakufu. The Umetada were not only swordsmiths but also made certain sword fittings and were also responsible for arranging koshirae. That means, the Umetada received the blade from the smith, or in the case of an old blade from the customer, and the tsuba and the other sword fittings from the tsuba and sword fittings maker respectively, for instance from other prestigious bakufu-employed lineage like the Gotô (as far as sword fittings like mitokoromono are concerned). In a next step, the Umetada first equipped the blade with a new habaki as the habaki has to be tailor-made to the blade and as a proper saya can not be made before the blade has a tailor-made habaki. The tsuba was adjusted to the blade either by punches around, or by inserting soft-metal pieces on top and bottom of the nakago-ana. The wood and lacquer work and the hilt wrapping and so on was commissioned to family members or sub-contracting craftsmen and the Umetada family had, depending on the specification of the customer, more or less artistic freedom in arranging the koshirae. And then there were two important task which connected the Umetada to the Hon’ami family. One was the shortening of blades, and the other one was to inlay (in gold or silver) the attribution of a sword the Hon’ami had forwarded them on its tang. We know from records that the Umetada family also dealt with swords, or bought up “hidden treasures” to submit them to the Hon’ami for authentication and attribution – the kinzôgan-mei carried out in the own workshop of course – to sell them later for five times the purchase price for example. So the two families were pretty closely linked. But back to Myôju. We don’t know for sure when and how he came in touch with Kôetsu but we can try to guess what was going on. Myôju started his career as a swordsmith and the earliest extant dated swords are from Keichô two (1597), from a time when he signed with “Muneyoshi” (宗吉). He was already 40 years old at that time. Also we learn from a signed sword by one of his master students, Hizen Tadayoshi (肥前忠吉), that when Tadayoshi came to Kyôto to learn from the Umetada in Keichô one (1596), still Myôju’s father Myôkin (明欽) was the head of the family. The name change to “Myôju” took place two years later, in Keichô three (1598), and it is assumed that this was the time when he took over the forge. But then something odd happens, that is, a gap of almost ten years from which no swords are known. The next known dated blade after the Keichô three one is from Keichô twelve (1607). I mean, there was Sekigahara going on just two years after his succession as Umetada head and there was thus surely a need for newly made swords. Well, it is possible that he was forced to produce in masses for a certain time and to deliver the majority of these blades unsigned as it was customary for fulfillments of bakufu orders. But after everything had calmed down, we are still facing a gap of at least five or six years and this phase of “unproductiveness” seems rather odd for a master swordsmith like him. Now we know that he handed over the management of the Umetada forge and workshop to his younger brother Jusai (寿斎) some time during the Keichô era (1596-1615) and everything points towards that he did so to have more time to cultivate his contacts with the then Kyôto art world. At this point it has to be mentioned that there are outstanding tsuba extant by Myôju that really take up the unique style of the Momoyama era (see picture below) and thus we may assume that he gave up the forge right after Sekigahara to focus for several years on developing a very special kind of tsuba. It has to be mentioned that Myôju was also a great engraver (horimono-shi) and that he trained several craftsmen in this art who turned out to become masters themselves. In other words, Myôju was well versed in working with steel and soft metal, in performing gold inlays, and he knew how to guide a chisel.

Myoju

tsuba with oak motif, jûyô-bunkazai, mei “Umetada Myôju,” Momoyama era, brass with a slightly raised shakudô hira-zôgan ornamentation and ko-sukashi, owned by the Hôeidô Corporation

Now how does Myôju go in line with Takagamine? Well, Kôetsu and Myôju knew each other pretty well, that is from their related jobs and from the fact that they both lived in Kyôto and moved in the local machishû circles. And by the way, the Hon’ami residence was just across the Horikawa-dôri from the Nishijin district where the Umetada workshop was located, i.e. just a stone’s throw away. It is unclear if Myôju made all of his Momoyama-style tsuba in the “ten year break” from sword forging or if he made them at the side until the end of his career. The year after the break, i.e. 1608, must have been a busy one as far as sword forging is concerned as about one third of all known dated blade goes back to that year. Also we know that his training of horimono-shi concentrated on the later years of the Genna era (1615-1624). Apart from that, he never gave up sword forging because there exists a blade, a ken, that was made just two months before his death, which was in Kan’ei eight (1631) by the way (Kôetsu died six years later in Kan’ei 14, 1637).

A very interesting entry is found on an extant map of Takagamine that mentions all the house owners of the community. Therein we find a certain “Umetada Dô’an” (埋忠道安) who lived in the town house directly opposite from the residence of Kôetsu (see detail below). Now the name Dô’an does not appear in any of the Umetada genealogies but experts assume that it is either an otherwise unknown pseudonym of Myôju or that a very close family member of Myôju lived in that house. The former approach, i.e. Dô’an being a pseudonym of Myôju, is explained by the religious orientation of Takagamine. We know that Kôetsu was a faithful Nichiren (Hokke) follower and that he also acted as a spiritual leader of the artist community. At that time, “Dô” (道) was a popular character to form one’s Hokke name from and it is possible that Dô’an was the lay name of Myôju that he used in Takagamine after Kôetsu had “convinced” him to follow the religious orientation of the community when residing in Takagamine.

Mumetada

Detail of the Takagamine map: (1) Residence of Kôetsu, (2) townhouse of Dô’an, please note that the name is quoted as “Mumetada Dô’an” (むめたゝ道安).

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What an exciting time the Momoyama era was for the Japanese art world! I want to deal with Takagamine in more detail at some time in the future and apart from that, I want to dedicate Umetada Myôju one day a book within my series that focuses on certain artists, i.e. in the style of my publications on Kanô Natsuo and Masamune.

KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #13 – Awataguchi (粟田口) School 8

With this post I will close the chapter on Awataguchi and after introducing some works of the more or less “also ran” smiths of the school who have not been introduced so far, I want to add some concluding thoughts on why the school did not make it into Nanbokuchô times.

Let me begin with Tôbei Kunimitsu (藤兵衛国光), the younger brother of Awataguchi Kuniyoshi (国吉) who bore the honorary title Sahyôe no Jô (左兵衛尉). There is some confusion about his active period as the meikan date him traditionally around Kenchô (建長, 1249-1256) but there is a ken extant signed “Sahyôe no Jô Fujiwara Kunimitsu” (左兵衛尉藤原国光) which is dated Shôwa ten (正和, 1321). Please note that the mekugi-ana of this ken goes right trough the year and that the very area of the tang shows considerable corrosion and so some interpret the date as Shôwa one (1312) (see picture 1). Apart from that, there are allegedly also works going round which are dated with the Einin era (永仁, 1293-1299) and then there is the jûyô tantô that was discovered in recent years which is dated Kôan eleven (弘安, 1288) (see picture 4). So either Kunimitsu enjoyed a really long life, or there was a second generation, whereby also the theory was forwarded that Kunimitsu was not the son of Norikuni but of Kuniyoshi. Interestingly, the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen – which lists him next to Kuniyoshi but with no reference of being his brother or a student of Norikuni – says that he was born in Jôgen one (承元, 1207) and died in Kangen two (寛元, 1244) at the young age of 36. Kunimitsu is listed in this source with the first name Tarô (太郎) and with the rank of a shinshi (進士), a person that passed certain tests of the Imperial school of civil servants during the ritsuryô era. However, most meikan date this Shinshi Tarô Kunimitsu to the Kenmu era (建武, 1334-1338). So we don’t know for sure how many Kunimitsu have been active within the Awataguchi school and what their exact relations were within the lineage. Maybe Tôbei Kunimitsu was Norikuni’s second son but had his own son, maybe the Tarô Kunimitsu, trained by his older brother Kuniyoshi. Or Tôbei Kunimitsu was indeed Kuniyoshi’s son and was followed by a second generation of the same name, maybe the Tarô Kunimitsu. But we will probably never know…

AwataRest1

Picture 1: ken, mei “Sahyôe no Jô Fujiwara Kunimitsu” “Shôwa jû/gannen jûnigatsu hi (+ 2 bonji),” nagasa 20.3 cm, ko-itame with masame and ji-nie, suguha-chô with some ko-notare and plenty of nijûba

As for Awataguchi Kunimitsu’s extant works, there are two tachi which are famous, a jûyô-bunkazai that is preserved in the Yôrô-ji (養老寺, Gifu Prefecture), and a jûyô-bunkazai that is owned by the Kurokawa Institute of Ancient Cultures. Both blades are slender, elegant, show a relative shallow sori, traces of funbari (both blades are surage), a rather wide shinogi-ji, and a ko-kissaki that tends towards chû and a hint towards ikubi, a feature that was popular in mid-Kamakura times. Also the interpretation of the jiba is very similar. We see a densely forged ko-itame with fine ji-nie and a nie-utsuri, a ko-nie-laden hoso-suguha with a rather wide nioiguchi, and a ko-maru-bôshi with a relative wide kaeri. The former, i.e. the Yôrô-ji tachi shows a few ashi and seems to be a little more nie-emphasized as there are some chikei and kinsuji. The interpretation places the two blades perfectly into the principal stylistic approach of the Awataguchi school.

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Picture 2: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Kunimitsu” (国光), nagasa 73.2 cm, sori 1.3 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, horimono of a suken towards the base of the omote side, preserved in the Yôrô-ji

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Picture 3: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Kunimitsu” (国光), nagasa 80.3 cm, sori 1.9 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune, owned by the Kurokawa Institute of Ancient Cultures

Picture 4 below shows the aforementioned tantô of Kunimitsu. It is quite graceful and has lost some substance – leaving only traces of the once engraved suken on the omote and the gomabashi on the ura side – but with the jiba very well preserved. The kitae is a ko-itame with masame-nagare that features plenty of ji-nie and fine chikei and the steel is extra bright and clear. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden suguha with a little notare that is mixed with a little ko-gunome on the ura side. The nioiguchi is wide and the suge-bôshi shows a wide ko-maru-kaeri. Based on this work, it seems as if Awataguchi Kunimitsu’s tantô are a little more nie-emphasized than his tachi. Please check out Darcy’s site here for some excellent pictures of the blade and the steel.

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Picture 4: jûyô, tantô, mei “Kôan jûichinen – gogatsu ichinichi Kunimitsu” (弘安十一年・五月一日国光, “a day of the fifth month Kôan eleven [1288]”), nagasa 21.7 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, iori-mune

Now there were some theories forwarded in the past that Awataguchi Kunimitsu and Shintôgo Kunimitsu were the same smith but these are dismissed today as their signature style differs significantly (note the left inner part of the character for “Kuni” and the upper part of the character for “mitsu”) (see picture 5). Well, the theory of course suggests itself as Shintôgo has his roots in the Awataguchi school but apart from the signature, the blades of Awataguchi Kunimitsu just don’t show enough chikei and kinsuji to pass for Shintôgo (the steel is different too) and they belong within the Awataguchi school to the least nie emphasized blades at all. So if you add up all kantei points for Awataguchi Kunimitsu, you arrive at: Slender tachi-sugata with a rather shallow sori and a somewhat wider shinogi-ji in combination with a nashiji or nashiji-like hada, a noticeably narrow suguha-based hamon, and a bôshi with a relative wide kaeri (see tantô in picture 4). Again, the jiba does not feature much nie what gives the blades a more unobtrusive overall appearance.

AwataRest5Picture 5: Awataguchi Kunimitsu left, Shintôgo Kunimitsu right

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There are a few blades extant by Kunisada (国定), a student of Awataguchi Kuniyoshi’s student Kuninobu (国延), but as he moved later to Ayabe (綾部) in Tanba, I want to introduce him when we arrive at this province. The same applies to Kagenaga (景長), the son of Awataguchi Yoshimasa (吉正) who in turn had studied under Tôshirô Yoshimitsu, who founded the Inaba-Kokaji (因幡小鍛冶) lineage. So we will talk about him in the course of when we learn about what was going on in Inaba province. However, last but not least I want to introduce Awataguchi Kagehisa (景久) as there is a single tantô of him known (see picture 6). In other words, there are virtually zero blades of all the other Awataguchi smiths extant who are quoted in the genealogy but who were not the famous masters of the school. So Kagehisa is said to have been the student of Tôshirô Yoshimitsu and he is traditionally dated around Kôan (1278-1288) or Shôan (正安, 1299-1302). The tantô in question is in hira-zukuri, small and elegant, and has a hardly tapering tang that tends to furisode. The kitae is a very fine ko-itame with a little nagare, plenty of ji-nie, and a little chikei. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden ko-midare mixed with ko-notare at the base, gunome-ashi, fine sunagashi, some kinsuji, and nijûba in the upper half. The bôshi is midare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeri with hakikake. The blade features a very bright nioiguchi and Satô Kanzan speaks of it “as might be excepted, of high quality.” In short, it fits into the legacy of the Awataguchi school and the tradition that Kagehisa had learned from an outstanding mastersmith. Also backing the tradition is the noticeable tendency towards midare in the ha and towards furisode in the nakago. The latter shows kiri-yasurime and a small and quite finely chiselled niji-mei.

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Picture 6: jûyô, tantô, mei “Kagehisa” (景久), nagasa 22.6 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, iori-mune

 

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It is difficult to say how or if at all the Awataguchi main line was carried on after Yoshimitsu. Incidentally, if we count Kuniie (国家) as first generation Awataguchi, Yoshimitsu would have been the fifth generation main line. The school itself had existed for about a century at the time of Yoshimitsu. Well, before I come up with some attempts at explanation, I want to introduce what the historic sources say about what was going on after Yoshimitsu. In the earliest extant sword publication, the Kanchi’in Bon Mei Zukushi, there isn’t any mention at all in this respect and Yoshimitsu is even listed in line with Kuniyoshi and Kunimitsu. Therein the main line goes Kuniie → Kunitomo → Norikuni → Kuniyoshi, period. Yoshimitsu is seen as contemporary or, if you want, as younger brother of Kuniyoshi. In the Kokon Mei Zukushi, Yoshimitsu is succeeded by Nobumitsu (延光) who again has four smiths under him, Masamitsu (正光), Yoshimasa (吉正), Yoriie (頼家), and Kunisumi/Kunizumi (国純), although it is not mentioned who his official successor was or if one of them succeeded him as head of the Awataguchi school at all. Tsuneishi introduces in his Awataguchi genealogy two students of Yoshimitsu, namely Yoshikuni (吉国) and the aforementioned Kagehisa (景久). And the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen lists Masamitsu, Yoshimasa, Nobumitsu, and Kunichika (国近) below of Yoshimitsu.

Let us focus on the tradition of handing over one character to the next generation for a little. When we look at the Awataguchi genealogy we learn that in many cases, the first character of the master’s name was used as second character of the successor’s name, e.g. KUNItomo → NoriKUNI → KUNIyoshi → YoshiMITSU or AriKUNI → KUNIhisa. So in the case of Yoshimitsu, we would expect some name like MITSUxxx. Interestingly, the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen says that Masamitsu also signed with Mitsumasa. A Yoshimitsu student with the name Mitsumasa is not found in the meikan but when we look at the Masamitsu we come across Daruma Masamitsu who is said to have been the son of Daruma Shigemitsu (重光). Well, both Masamitsu and Shigemitsu are dated around Eitoku (永徳, 1381-1384) but lo and behold, there exists the tradition for Shigemitsu that he was the son of Awataguchi Yoshimitsu. But we must be careful. Genealogies were pimped or doctored later on exactly that way, that is, having a smith working in Yamashiro province who shares the same character as a famous master smith tempts the compiler to create this very connection in the first place. So basing a theory just on limited genealogic data can mean falling right into the trap of the compiler. In other words, when you start from a certain smith and go downwards you might just follow what was actually created by a compiler by going backwards.

How about the branches of the other masters of the school? Not many students are recorded for any of them, except for Yoshimitsu’s predecessor Kuniyoshi and for Kunitsuna, the youngest of the earlier Six Awataguchi Brothers. As mentioned, one branch that had emerged under master Kuniyoshi relocated to Tanba province and flourished there throughout the Nanbokuchô period (also by being joined from a branch of the lineage of Yoshimitsu’s student Masamitsu which had moved to Tanba too). And the school of Kunitsuna brought forth Shintôgo Kunimitsu who was one of the founders of the Sôshû tradition as Kunitsuna himself had moved to Kamakura on bequest of the bakufu.

The downfall or rather discontinuance of the Awataguchi School is most likely linked to the fact that the Kyôto-based and highly prestigious lineage was mainly producing for a clientele that came from local aristocracy and highest circles. So by the time of Yoshimitsu, i.e. late Kamakura, the school was facing a Kyôto of an aristocratic class that had reached a point at which its political obsolescence, that came along with the establishment of the Kamakura-bakufu in 1185, had been pretty much noticeable. Of course, Kyôto was still undisputed center when it comes to refined culture, connection to the Chinese mainland, and sanctioning of courtly titles, and traffic between the imperial capital and Kamakura was heavy. Another severe impact on the ability of the Kyôto aristocracy to put anything into practice came with the two invasion attempts of the Mongols which tooks place in 1274 and 1281. We all know that “favourable” weather conditions played an important role in the defeat of the invading fleet but as the bakufu was responsible for national defence, it took large parts of the “victory” on it’s own account. In other words, the Shogunate in Kamakura was so to speak capable of not only defending but also of being in charge of the country. Accordingly, the local Kyôto smiths were about losing a great amount of business and much more promising was what was going on in Kamakura and the newly established Sôshû tradition of sword making. But on the other hand, another Kyôto-based school, Rai, was just about to flourish (and became as successful as it gets). So there was surely a demand left. Anyway, what we can see is that from late Kamakura onwards, a significant shift from noble to martial took place and maybe the Rai School was just more capable of responding to this request. Well, there are still many things in the dark when it comes to the early Kyôto schools. Maybe there were other, i.e. local and/or genealogic factors involved than mere the factors supply and demand and rise of the warrior class. For example, we are still not able to fully connect the dots and draw the connections between Sanjô, Gojô, Ayanokôji, Awataguchi, and Rai. I mean, overlapping workmanships give us a pretty good good hunch about that they must have been somehow connected. But we don’t know for sure which schools’ founder was trained by whom and so on. And with this, I want to close the chapter Awataguchi and move – with a short stopover at Aburanokôji (油小路) – over to the Rai School.

KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #12 – Awataguchi (粟田口) School 7

We arrive at Yoshimitsu (吉光) who is, depending on tradition, seen as student or as son of Kuniyoshi (国吉), his fourth son precisely, taking into consideration his first name Tôshirô (藤四郎) (i.e. the suffix shirô refers to a fourth son). The meikan either date him around Kôan (弘安, 1278-1288) or Shôô (正応, 1288-1293) but there are no date signatures of Yoshimitsu known. We have learned in the last chapter that from Kuniyoshi, blades dated Kenji four (建治, 1278) and Kôan six (弘安, 1283) and ten (1287) are known so both Kôan and Shôô seem perfectly fine for Yoshimitsu, regardless of if he was Kuniyoshi’s son or his student. The Kotô Meizukushi Taizen by the way quotes Yoshimitsu with Kangi one (寛喜, 1229) as year of birth and Shôô four (正応, 1291) as year of death. Before we continue, let me introduce all the (non-Kuniyoshi son) theories that were forwarded over time regarding Yoshimitsu’s background. Some say he was actually the fourth son of Norikuni (則国) and that’s where the first name Tôshirô comes from. Following this approach, he would have been Kuniyoshi’s younger brother, what does not exclude that he rather studied under his older brother than under his father. If we follow the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen, then Yoshimitsu was nine years old when Norikuni died, what would be an explanation for the aforementioned constellation. Incidentally, Kuniyoshi was 24 when Norikuni died but again, the data of the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen is highly doubtful and I don’t want to base too many theories on just that source. All I want to do here is to point out possible scenarios. Others see Yoshimitsu as son of Kuniyasu, others as son of Shintôgo Kunimitsu, and others again as great-grandson of Hisakuni.

Anyway, I want to introduce an interesting theory that follows the Kuniyoshi student-approach and that is connected to a highlight of Yoshimitsu, and that is his signature style. This theory says that Yoshimitsu came originally from Echizen province where he lived in the vicinity of the Shiisaki-jinja (椎前神社・志比前神社, present-day city of Tsuruga, Fukui Prefecture). Now Tsuruga is not that far away from the old capital, i.e. about 100 km following the Hokurikudô, and the Hokurikudô was a much frequented route as in Heian and early Kamakura times, Tsuruga had been (apart from Hakata on Kyûshû) the main hub for trade with Song China. The theory also says that he studied calligraphy of the Guzei’in-ryû (弘誓院流) in the capital, a style of shodô that has been established by court noble Kujô Noriie (九条教家, 1194-1255). Taking that into consideration, it is likely that Yoshimitsu has belonged to a rather high-ranking local Tsuruga family and that he moved in higher circles when visiting Kyôto. So maybe he came for something else but had a fondness for swords and was thus introduced to the then most renowned lineage of swordsmiths, the Awataguchi, where he started to study with master Kuniyoshi. I mean, we are talking here about the most prestigious masters of that time who only took orders from the wealthiest clientele, so following the Echizen approach, it is unlikely that for example a peasant boy packed his backback, marched down to Kyôto, and knocked at the door of Kuniyoshi to become his apprentice. Stories like that are more like Edo-era romanticism. As mentioned, this is just one of the numerous theories on the background of Yoshimitsu but reason why I deal with it that persistently is his signature style of which experts agree that the elegant style is not a coincidende and that he must had a decent knowledge of the aesthetics of calligraphy. In other words, Yoshimitsu’s signatures are not just of the “elegant because of the archaic, antique feel” category, like the mei of Heian and early Kamakura-era smiths for example, but are well thought out with all elements like curves of strokes and distance of radicals in perfect harmony.

When it comes to Yoshimitsu’s signatures, we basically distinguish between two groups: A more “stiff” and “angular” one that is executed with a somewhat thicker chisel, and a “looser” and more “roundish” one for which a thinner chisel was used. The former features a smaller lower kuchi (口) radical of the character for Yoshi (吉) and is therefore also referred to as koguchi-mei (小口銘), and the latter, with the noticeably larger kuchi radical, as ôguchi-mei (大口銘) respectively. It is assumed that the ôguchi group goes back to his late years. Tanobe sensei introduces a third group which is somewhere in between these two and that mixes certain elements from each group, i.e. that goes back to a transitional time if you want, which he personally thinks of being the most elegant one. Picture 1 below shows one exemplary mei for each group.

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Picture 1, from left to right: koguchi-mei, intermediate, ôguchi-mei

When it comes to Yoshimitsu’s oeuvre, it is kind of similar to Kuniyoshi, that means, the majority are tantô, followed by a few others and hardly any long swords going round at all, with Yoshimitsu’s long sword body of evidence even weaker than that of Kuniyoshi. And due to the latter fact, I want to “quickly” get by that very limited non-tantô database before we come to the blades we can actually talk about in more detail. Throughout the entire feudal era and up to the 1980s, it was thought that only one long blade of Awataguchi Yoshimitsu exists, namely the meibutsu Ichigo-Hitofuri (一期一振), which was once worn by Toyotomi Hideyoshi. However, Hideyoshi had it shortened from 85.7 to 68.8 cm but ensured that the original signature of Yoshimitsu was set into the new tang as so-called gaku-mei (額銘). When Ôsaka fell in 1615, the blade suffered a fire damage and had to be rehardened by Echizen Yasutsugu. In other words, it is saiha and, apart from old oshigata, we can’t say much about the original interpretation of its yakiba. Pictures of the meibutsu and further info can be found on my Japanese Sword Legends site here and here. Speaking of oshigata, there is a special copy of the work Kôtoku Katana Ezu (光徳刀絵図) that dates to Bunroku three (文禄, 1594) and that shows the Ichigo-Hitofuri before it was shortened. Although the reproduction of the hamon is more or less subject to artistic freedom in such old oshigata collections, I nevertheless want to point out that the ha is obviously more flamboyant than it is the case at Yoshimitsu’s tantô. But this is not as odd as it seems as there is for example the meibutsu tantô Midare-Tôshirô (乱藤四郎) which shows, as the name suggests, a midareba. So Yoshimitsus did work in midareba.

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Picture 2: Oshigata of the unshortened Ichigo-Hitofuri.

In our times, a zaimei wakizashi of Yoshimitsu was “discovered” which had been an heirloom of the Naruse family (成瀬), the daimyô of the Inuyama fief (犬山藩) of Owari province. The blade has a nagasa of 58.3 cm and as its bôhi with tsurebi go way down into the tang and as the signature is placed even below and towards the nakago-jiri, it looks at a glance as if the blade is suriage. But it is not, it is almost ubu (a tiny bit of the original nakago-jiri has been cut off) and was made that way, and with the mei on the omote side, everythong points towards the assumption that this blade was intended as uchigatana. The blade went jûyô in 1991 and was submitted to tokubetsu-jûyô the very next year, which it passed with flying colors of course. This uchigatana has with 2.0 cm quite a deep sori, a toriizori, and ends in a compact chû-kissaki. The jigane is a dense and finely forged itame with plenty of ji-nie and much chikei and the steel is clear and has a “wet” look. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden suguha with a wide nioiguchi mixed with some ko-gunome, ashi, , a few sunagashi and kinsuji and shows from the mid blade section upwards some nijûba-style yubashiri. The bôshi is sugu with a little notare and displays a very brief ko-maru-kaeri. So the top quality forging with its abundance of sparkling chikei, the “wet” looking steel, and the classical interpretation in suguha with some nijûba and brightly shining ko-nie lives very much up to the reputation of the Awataguchi school.

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Picture 3: tokubetsu-jûyô, uchigatana, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 58.3 cm, sori 2.0 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

There are also ken of Yoshimitsu extant, for example the one shown in picture 4 which is designated as kokuhô. It is pretty close to those of his master, or father, Kuniyoshi, i.e. interpreted in ryô-shinogi-zukuri with a central shinogi-hi and a high shinogi, although with a hint more fukura. The kitae is a dense ko-itame with some masame, fine ji-nie, and chikei, and the hamon is a suguha-chô in ko-nie-deki mixed with ko-chôji-ashi, a few sunagashi, and some nijûba on the ura side. The nioiguchi is rather tight and the bôshi shows hakikake. This ken is preserved in the Shirayamahime-jinja (白山比咩神社, Ishikawa Prefecture).

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Picture 4: kokuhô, ken, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 22.9 cm, motohaba 2.2 cm

And before we go over to the tantô, let me introduce one more of these “other” blades of Yoshimitsu, the meibutsu Honemabi-Tôshirô (骨喰藤四郎, lit. “bone-gnawing Tôshirô”), which is a mumei naginata-naoshi that is designated as jûyô-bunkazai, despite the fact that it is saiha (retempered by the 3rd gen. Yasutsugu after the Great Meireki Fire). In old oshigata collections we see a slanting ko-midare/chôji mix at the base which turns into a calm suguha-chô with ko-ashi. The blade shows prominent horimono of a kurikara and Fudô-Myôô with atop a bonji in a hitsu recess. On the basis of the tang it is speculated that the blade had been mumei from the beginning, that means, even if the naginata – it was once a smaller-sized ko-naginata – was shortened to wakizashi/uchigatana length, the signature would have been at a higher position anyway and would not have been affected by the shortening. The attribution to Awataguchi Yoshimitsu goes back to the Hon’ami family and the jûyô-bunkazai designation – which says “Den” Awataguchi Yoshimitsu by the way – reflects more the historical value and provenance of the blade, which is as mentioned shortened, unsigned, and saiha.

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Picture 5: jûyô-bunkazai, naginata-naoshi, mumei “Den Awataguchi Yoshimitsu” (伝粟田口吉光), meibutsu Honebami-Tôshirô, nagasa 58.8 cm, sori 1.4 cm, preserved in the Toyokuni-jinja (豊国神社, Kyôto)

Now to Yoshimitsu’s tantô. Many experts see him as best tantô smiths of all times, standing on top of the winners’ rostrum with Shintôgo Kunimitsu. On top of that, he is counted with Masamune and Gô Yoshihiro to the so-called sansaku (三作), a term that was coined in the Edo period and which means about “Best Three Smiths of All Times.” With 16 listed blade, he also ranks, from a quantitative point of view, number three in the Kyôhô Meibutsu Chô, only “beaten” by Masamune with 39, and Sadamune with 19 blades. Incidentally, 18 blades of him are found in the yakemi section of the Kyôhô Meibutsu Chô. As comparison, the publication lists the same number of yakemi by Masamune and eleven of Gô Yoshihiro. When we get a quick overview of Yoshimitsu’s tantô, we learn that things are not that much different than with Kuniyoshi. That is, he made tantô in a great variety of shapes, e.g. standard ones, smaller and wider hôchô-style blades, long and thin, and long and wide tantô which feature a sunnobi-sugata. Also the way grooves are added is very similar to Kuniyoshi and when we remember that Kuniyoshi worked up to Kôan (弘安, 1278-1288) and Yoshimitsu is traditionally dated around Kôan and the subsequent Shôô era (正応, 1288-1293), we realize that this dating is – despite of the fact that as mentioned no date signatures of Yoshimitsu are extant – quite senstive. In other words, the interpretation of extant works corroberates that Yoshimitsu’s active period has been pretty close to that of Kuniyoshi what allows us to speculate that he indeed might has been his younger brother rather than his son as for a son, we would expect a hint later nengô like for example Einin (永仁, 1293-1299) or Shôan (正安, 1299-1302), which in turn means leaving late Kamakura and entering the final years of this period. Anyway, regardless of the sugata of tantô, we see characteristic features that appear on the majority of blades from that category and which can be described as follows: Small connected gunome elements or at least gunome-ashi at the yakidashi which make that area look like small strung together beans. Sometimes also an approach or even a solid koshiba might be seen. Nijûba or nijûba-like yubashiri appear parallel to the habuchi, but not as obvious and not all over the blade it is the case at Kuniyoshi. The ha often gets somewhat wider, and/or thins a little out before it enters the bôshi. This feature can be pretty obvious and appear as a true bend, or might just as a bend by a slightly thinnig or slightly widening ha at the point where the bôshi starts. In addition, the nie are much more emphasized in the bôshi and appear there often as if they “spill” in a frayed manner into the ji, a feature that is referred to as nie no kui-sagari (沸の喰い下がり). Please note that there is some confusion with the term okina no hige (翁の髭, lit. “beard of an old man”). This term too refers to increasing nie in the bôshi but is reserved for Shintôgo Kunimitsu. Basic difference is that okina no hige are super fine kinsuji within the ha that remind – due to the fact that they follow the underlying hada which tends at Shintôgo somewhat to nagare in that area – of the long beard of an old man. They might reach into the ji too in certain cases but focus as mentioned more on the ha whereas at Awataguchi Yoshimitsu, the nie-hataraki take much more place in the ji than in the ha. So before we continue, let me summarize the characteristic feature of Yoshimitsu in picture 6 below.

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Picture 6: Characteristic features of Awataguchi Yoshimitsu’s workmanship.

In the following I would like to introduce some representative tantô of Yoshimitsu (going from small to large) and, if you have time, I recommend going back one chapter, comparing them to the works of Kuniyoshi. You will see the similarities. First a blade that is designated as jûyô-bijutsuhin and that is one of the smallest tantô known by Yoshimitsu. It has a nagasa of 21.5 cm, uchizori, and because of its proportions, everything points towards late Kamakura. It shows a fine and uniformly forged ko-itame which shows ji-nie. The hamon is a hoso-suguha with some ko-gunome at the base and narrows a little towards the monouchi before it gets again wider in the bôshi. In addition, we see faint nijûba and nie that get stronger in the bôshi and appear there as nie no kui-sagari. So we have pretty obviously all characteristic features of this smith present on this blade.

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Picture 7: jûyô-bijutsuhin, tantô, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 21.5 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune

Next a blade that is a little uncommon, namely in the way that it is a yoroidôshi-style tantô, featuring a moto-kasane of 1.05 cm. Accordingly, the tantô got the nickname Atsushi-Tôshirô (厚藤四郎, lit. “The Thick Tôshirô,” sometimes also read Atsu-Tôshirô). The blade is designated as kokuhô and shows a somewhat standing-out itame with plenty of ji-nie and much chikei. The ko-nie-laden hamon starts with some ko-notare and gunome at the base and turns then into a suguha which is mixed with some kinsuji and with plenty of ashi an . The bôshi has a ko-maru-kaeri and shows hakikake.

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Picture 8: kokuhô, tantô, meibutsu Atsushi-Tôshirô, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 21.8 cm, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune, preserved in the Tôkyô National Museum

As mentioned, Yoshimitsu also made some wide and stout hôchô-style blades like the one shown in picture 9 which bears the nickname Hôchô-Tôshirô (包丁藤四郎) accordingly. Please note that there is another meibutsu with that name but which was damaged by fire during the Great Meireki Fire of 1657. The one introduced here is designated as jûyô-bijutsuhin, shows a very dense and beautifully forged ko-itame with plenty of ji-nie, and also displays a slanting bô-utsuri at where the hamon starts and a nie-utsuri all over the blade. A faint nie-utsuri is also seen on the tantô shown in picture 7. The hamon of the Hôchô-Tôshirô is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha-chô with a bright and clear nioiguchi and is mixed with ko-gunome, some ko-notare, ko-ashi, and . The bôshi features a somewhat “tied-up” ko-maru-kaeri. The blade shows a pretty conspicuous amount of midare and please note the hi which is in Awataguchi-typical manner engraved close to the mune (although here with traces of a thin tsurebi that went all around the groove).

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Picture 9: jûyô-bijutsuhin, tantô, meibutsu Hôchô-Tôshirô, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 21.8 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune, preserved in the Tokugawa Museum

Picture 10 shows another wide blade that tends to hôchô. It was a heirloom of the Tachibana family (立花), the daimyô of the Yanagawa fief (柳川藩) of Chikugo proince, and is today designated as kokuhô. The blade is as mentioned wide, has a nagasa of 23.1 cm, and shows a dense and beautifully forged ko-itame with plenty of ji-nie, rather thick chikei, and a straight nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha that features a bright nioiguchi, a few ko-ashi, and some connected ko-gunome at the base (more prominent on the omote side). The bôshi appears as sugu with a ko-maru-kaeri and brief hakikake and again, we see a hi that is engraved extremely close to the mune.

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Picture 10: kokuhô, tantô, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 23.1 cm, a little uchizori, hira-zukuri, iori-mune, privately owned (Fukuoka Prefecture)

And last but not least, I want to introduce one of Yoshimitsu’s most famous (some say his best) and largest tantô, the meibutsu Hirano-Tôshirô (平野藤四郎). It has a nagasa of 30.1 cm, a rather wide mihaba of 2.8 cm, and also quite a thick kasane of 0.8 cm. It shows a very dense ko-itame with a hint of masame towards the mune and plenty of fine ji-nie. The hamon is a suguha in ko-nie-deki that starts with some connected ko-gunome and that is mixed with shallow notare, a little gunome-midare, ko-ashi and . Both nioiguchi and ha are bright and clear and the bôshi is a shallow notare-komi with a ko-maru-kaeri.

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Picture 11: gyobutsu, tantô, meibutsu Hirano-Tôshirô, mei “Yoshimitsu” (吉光), nagasa 30.1 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune

*

To round this chapter off, let me address some essential kantei points. As we find ourselves in the late Kamakura period, we are dealing with the finest, most elegant, and qualitative best tantô ever made and are facing the greatest tantô smiths of all times, which were Awataguchi Kuniyoshi, Awataguchi Yoshimitsu, Shintôgo Kunimitsu, and Rai Kunitoshi. All of them made tantô with various sugata, so it is difficult to jump to a conclusion right away based on the shape alone. But what we can say is that tantô of Shintôgo Kunimitsu and Rai Kunitoshi show by trend a little thinner kasane as they were active later and approached Nanbokuchô. But if present, hi are a good hint because if they are noticeably close to the mune, it is very likely that you have an Awataguchi work. When it comes to the jiba, the blades of Shintôgo feature more chikei and kinsuji and are overall more nie-laden than those of Yoshimitsu. In other words, his jigane is stronger and with Shintôgo Kunimitsu, we can feel a moving away from Kyô and towards the soon to be established Sôshû tradition. At Rai Kunitoshi in turn, the nie are somewhat more calm, that means, the emphasis on nie goes in ascending order: Rai Kunitoshi → Awataguchi Yoshimitsu → Shintôgo Kunimitsu. I have already mentioned that Yoshimitsu’s tantô are quite similar to those of Kuniyoshi, with the difference that Kuniyoshi’s ko-itame is a hint denser and a hint more uniform and appears a hint more often as “straightforward” nashiji-hada. Apart from that, there is much more nijûba and the nie would not increase in the bôshi. And when you see prominent ko-gunome at the base or some kind of koshiba, it is safe to go for Yoshimitsu, supposing that you have narrowed down a bid to Kuniyoshi and Yoshimitsu. As indicated in the last chapter, there are some tantô of Kuniyoshi which too show an approach of this feature at the base but it was Yoshimitsu who so to speak applied it “fully”.

Short Update

I will end the DTI/Thanksgiving eBook Super Sale by this Wednesday. So if you want to grab some copies as long as they are 50% off, you have two days left to do so. Please note that Lulu doesn’t offer any voucher codes for eBooks, i.e. makes no sense to wait for one, and the next one done by my humble self manually will be the Easter Sale next year. Thus either now or in five months 🙂

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

KANTEI 4 – YAMASHIRO #11 – Awataguchi (粟田口) School 6

The Awataguchi main line was continued by Norikuni’s eldest son Kuniyoshi (国吉) of whom no first name is handed down, although we know that he bore the honorary title Sahyôe no Jô (左兵衛尉). Just to let you know, the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen says that he was born in Genkyû one (元久, 1204) and that he died in Bun’ei four (文永, 1267) at the age of 64. Traditionally he is dated around Hôji (宝治, 1247-1249) and contradicting the anyway suspicious year of death forwarded by the Kotô Meizukushi Taizen, there are old oshigata collections extant that show blades dated for example Kenji four (建治, 1278) and Kôan six (弘安, 1283) and ten (1287). Following the latter data means that with Kuniyoshi, we have reached the closing years of the mid-Kamakura period. Fortunately, there are relative many works of this Awataguchi smith extant and these works comprise all kind of blades like tachi, uchigatana, ken, tantô, and larger dimensioned sunnobi-style tantô. So we have a pretty good overview of his artistic repertoire, although it must be said that long swords are rarest when it comes to quantities in the extant oeuvre of Kuniyoshi. Let me work through Kuniyoshi’s workmanship step by step, beginning with long swords and coming via the “others” to his tantô.

There are only two zaimei tachi of Kuniyoshi extant whose signatures are bulletproof. Then there is a group of three signed blades where the signature is off a little, although these mei are thought to be most likely authentic and within the range of natural changes of a smith but which are nevertheless labelled as “need further study.” In other words, the NBTHK is very very careful in this respect and does not lean an inch out of the window when it comes to big names like Awataguchi Kuniyoshi. And then there are more than a dozen of jûyô and more than a dozen of tokubetsu-jûyo tachi known which are unsigned but which are attributed to Kuniyoshi. So let’s focus on the signed specimen to define how he interpreted his long swords. One of the two bulletproof zaimei tachi (see picture 1) is tokubetsu-jûyô and it is very special because it is completely ubu. The blade has an elegant tachi-sugata with a deep koshizori with funbari but does no longer taper that much like earlier Kamakura blades and ends in a straightforward chû-kissaki, i.e. nothing like ko or slightly elongated ko-kissaki, as it was typical for preceding periods, but chû. It shows a very dense ko-itame with a little nagare, plenty of ji-nie, fine chikei, and a nie-utsuri and the steel is clear and looks “wet.” The hamon is a ko-nie-laden suguha-chô that comes with a little undulating notare and that is mixed with a few ko-gunome, ko-chôji, and ko-midare, ashi, some kinsuji, and a conspicuous, discontinuous nijûba that appears almost over the entire blade (sparing just the base). The nioiguchi is wide and bright. The bôshi is sugu with prominent nijûba and almost runs out as yakitsume. The tang is as mentioned ubu, has a kurijiri, kiri-yasurime, and two mekugi-ana.

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Picture 1: tokubetsu-jûyô, tachi, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 75.5 cm, sori 2.4 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

The signed jûyô-bunkazai (see picture 2) was shortened up to the signature but retains its elegant sugata that is again not that much tapering and ends in a chû-kissaki. The interpretation of the jiba is very similar to the tokubetsu-jûyô and we see the same prominent and discontinuous nijûba that focuses on the upper part of the blade and that continues into the bôshi, here even a hint more pronounced. Incidentally, this feature has already been pointed out in pre-Edo period sword publications.

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Picture 2: jûyô-bunkazai, tachi, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 72.3 cm, sori 2.4 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

The mei of these two blades also mark so to speak the both extremes of Kuniyoshi’s spectrum of signature variations, that means the one on the tokubetsu-jûyô is the finest and largest, and the one on the jûyô-bunkazai the thickest and most compact mei. Picture 3 shows these two signatures compared to those which are as mentioned labelled as “need further study.” [Sidenote: The way these signatures are actually addressed in NBTHK papers is “to mei ga aru” (と銘がある) but this supplement deserves an extra and an explanation goes beyond the scope of the kantei series.] Again, we are talking here just about long swords. Signed tantô and ken are plenty and will be addressed later.

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Picture 3: mei of the tokubetsu-jûyô left, of the jûyô-bunkazai right, and below those which “need further study”

To demonstrate what discrepancies we are facing with the “to mei ga aru” works, or rather to demonstrate the lack of discrepancies, I want to introduce in picture 4 one such blade, the one whose mei is shown in picture 3 on the bottom left. It even passed tokubetsu-jûyô, that means if the mei (and workmanship) was that off, it would not have received jûyô (or even hozon) in the first place. In other words, if the mei was judged as gimei (or way too off), the blade would not have passed any paper and be returned to the owner who might then be left with the decision having the signature removed and submitting it again (most likely then it would actually receive a paper on Awataguchi, or even on Awataguchi Kuniyoshi). So these to mei ga aru signatures can make it up to the tokubetsu-jûyô rank without problem and the supplement in question has to be understood as “precaution” on the part of the NBTHK. Take a look at the blade in picture 4 and judge yourself. It is a slender tachi with a deep koshizori and a chû-kissaki, showing a very dense ko-itame mixed with some mokume and nagare that features plenty of ji-nie, chikei, a hint of jifu, and a faint nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha-chô mixed with ko-chôji, ko-gunome, plenty of ashi and , fine sunagashi, kinsuji, and the very same prominent discontinuous nijûba that also runs into the bôshi. The nioiguchi is wide and bright and the bôshi is sugu with a ko-maru-kaeri. The condition of this blade is outstanding. It was once owned by the statesman Ôkubo Ichiô (大久保一翁, 1818-1888) and went then into the possession of the Iwasaki family (岩崎).

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Picture 4: tokubetsu-jûyô, tachi, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 70.9 cm, sori 2.1 cm, shinogi-zukuri, iori-mune

Now to Kuniyoshi’s “other” blades. There are about seven ken of him known of which I want to introduce the most famous one, the jûyô-bunkazai ken. I have “only” pictures of five of these blades in my database but I dare to say that the majority of them is identically interpreted. They are all slender, in ryô-shinogi-zukuri, show a thin hi along the rather high shinogi (a groove that is referred to as shinogi-hi by the way), and their tips are not that stubby (that means they don’t have a pronounced fukura). The majority has a nagasa between 21.0 and 25 cm (although there is an overlong jûyô-bijutsuhin ken with a nagasa of 84.8 cm), that means Kuniyoshi’s ken are mostly small and graceful and have a nakago that is relative long in relation to the blade length. Their jigane is about identical to that of the tachi, i.e. highest quality nashiji, and the hamon is a suguha-chô in ko-nie-deki with kinsuji and sunagashi and some ken feature a few hotsure and others a little mixed-in notare (the jûô-bunkazai for example). We also see nijûba, also not that prominent as on long swords, and at one ken, the nijûba just appears in the bôshi, meeting at the shinogi ridge (see picture 6). The jûyô-bunkazai ken is signed with a fine chisel whereas one jûyô-bijutsuhin ken bears a thickly chiselled mei, that means we can’t make out any rule when it comes to ken signatures (for example that all of them are signed the same way and would therefore go back to the same phase in his career).

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Picture 5: jûyô-bunkazai, ken, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 24.2 cm, motohaba 2.3 cm, ryô-shinogi-zukuri

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Picture 6: jûyô, ken, mumei “Den Awataguchi Kuniyoshi” (伝粟田口国吉), nagasa 23.8 cm, motohaba 1.9 cm, ryô-shinogi-zukuri

Next “special case” is the famous jûyô-bunkazai and meibutsu Nakigitsune (鳴狐, lit. “howling fox”) from the former possessions of the Akimoto family (秋元) which ruled the Tatebayashi fief (館林藩) in Kôzuke province. Here we are facing a long uchigatana (the jûyô-bunkazai designation says “katana”) in hira-zukuri and although this is the only one of its kind, i.e. by a famous smith from that time (Kamakura), it has some Heian-period predecessors. Please note that the blade shows a bôhi which is engraved very close to the mune, a characteristic feature that is typical for the Awataguchi School. However, the diagonal end just above the habaki is unique to Kuniyoshi and also found on some of his tantô. By the way, Tanobe sensei sees the Awataguchi Hisakuni tantô shown in picture 6 here from its overall impression as “miniature version” of the Nakigitsune. The jiba of the Nakigitsune follows that of Kuniyoshi’s tachi and on this blade too we see prominent nijûba. But the suguha is pretty wide and we see some ko-gunome and ko-notare along the fukura. Please check out hi-res pictures of this blade here.

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Picture 7: jûyô-bunkazai, uchigatana, mei “Sahyôe no Jô Fujiwara Kuniyoshi” (左兵衛尉藤原国吉), nagasa 54.0 cm, sori 1.6 cm, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune

Tantô make the majority of Awataguchi Kuniyoshi’s extant oeuvre. There is one jûyô-bunkazai, a couple of jûyô-bijutsujin, and more than a dozen jûyô/tokubetsu-jûyô tantô, and the majority of these tantô is signed (all but one in niji-mei, the one “exception” is signed “Saemon no Jô Kuniyoshi”). When we take a look at all these tantô we learn that he interpreted them in a great variety of shapes. There are such with a standard, a mid-sized and elegant Kamakura-period sugata, smaller and wider tantô that tend to a hôchô-sugata, long and thin tantô, and long and wide tantô that come in a sunnobi-sugata. His tantô show a little uchizori or no sori at all and can come with an iori or a mitsu-mune. Also we see several kinds of grooves like gomabashi, katana-hi, katana-hi with tsurebi, combination of suken on the one and koshibi on the other side, combination of katana-hi with bonji on the hira-ji towards the base, bonji and suken as relief in a katana-hi, and futasuji-hi on both sides. As mentioned, the hi are engraved in Awataguchi-manner quite close to the mune and some end in Kuniyoshi’s peculiar diagonal manner. And before I introduce some of his tantô I briefly want to address Kuniyoshi’s standing within his school. Some see him as best tantô smith of all times whereas this attribute is mostly associated with his successor Yoshimitsu. Others say he was the best when it comes to a gentle and dignified suguha whilst Honma sensei ranks him second in his school in terms of skill, only surpassed by Hisakuni. Well, works of these Awataguchi masters are all outstanding and the quality is so close that such rankings are more of a subjective nature and not really something to fight about.

Picture 8 shows the jûyô-bunkazai tantô of Kuniyoshi. It is wide and with a nagasa of 22.9 cm rather compact, what gives the piece a hôchô, i.e. “kitchen knife” sugata. It shows a dense ko-itame that is mixed with some ô-hada in places, fine ji-nie, and a hint of jifu-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha that is mixed with ko-ashi, , and a little ko-gunome at the very base. The nioiguchi is bright and rather tight and the bôshi is sugu with a ko-maru-kaeri. Please note that this blade does not show nijûba. Both sides feature a katana-hi that is, again, arranged pretty close to the mune, and we can also see traces of a tsurebi. The tang is ubu, has a kirijiri, kiri-yasurime, and is signed in niji-mei. Incidentally, this blade was once a heirloom of the Asano family (浅野), the daimyô of the Hiroshima fief of Aki province.

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Picture 8: jûyô-bunkazai, tantô, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 22.9 cm, uchizori, motohaba 2.4 cm, hira-zukuri, iori-munne

In picture 9 we see a tantô of Kuniyoshi that features prominent nijûba, also in the typical manner what means interrupted and a hint more emphasized in the bôshi. This is, or rather was Kuniyoshi’s largest known tantô, was because it is a little machiokuri. It measures now 29.1 cm but was originally 30.9 cm in nagasa. So this tantô comes in sunnobi-sugata and somehow foreshadows the later Nanbokuchô interpretations. The jigane is a very dense ko-itame with plenty of ji-nie and appears altogether as nashiji-hada. We see a little mixed-in jifu and a prominent nie-utsuri. The hamon is a ko-nie-laden chû-suguha-chô mixe with a little notare and, as mentioned, nijûba. The nioiguchi is bright and the bôshi is sugu with a kind of ô-maru-style kaeri. Both sides bear a katana-hi with tsurebi. The tang is machiokuri, has a kurijiri, kiri-yasurime, and shows a thickly chiselled niji-mei.

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Picture 9: tokubetsu-jûyô, tantô, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 29.1 cm, only very little uchizori, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune

And last but not least I want to introduce another tantô of Kuniyoshi, a jûyô-bijutsuhin, that shows the diagonal ending of his hi that I have mentioned several times. This tantô – which was an heirloom of the Aoyama family (青山), the daimyô of the Sasayama fief (篠山藩) of Tanba province by the way – is with a nagasa of just 20.4 cm pretty short and tends with the wide mihaba to a hôchô-sugata. The jigane is a dense ko-itame with plenty of fine ji-nie and nie-utsuri and the hamon is a chû-suguha in ko-nie-deki that is mixed with ko-ashi and and that thins somewhat down towards the fukura. Please note the ko-ashi at the base which make the hamon there tend a little bit to ko-gunome. This feature anticipates a typical characteritic of Kuniyoshi’s successor Yoshimitsu (which will be addressed in detail in the next chapter) and that is why I am introducing this tantô here. Also we see nijûba, although here just at the base, and some hakikake along the relative wide ko-maru-kaeri.

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Picture 10: jûyô-bijutsuhin, tantô, mei “Kuniyoshi” (国吉), nagasa 20.4 cm, uchizori, hira-zukuri, mitsu-mune

And to get a feel for the brilliance, the outstanding and breath-taking quality of the Awataguchi steel, I would highly recommend checking the photo gallery at the very bottom of Darcy’s site here!

DTI eBook Super Sale!

Initially I had planned a Thanksgiving eBook Super Sale but then I thought it might be way better to schedule it earlier as some of you are going to attend the DAI TOKEN ICHI the very weekend before. For those who want  to look up stuff on their phones or tablets spot on at the fair, some of my eBooks might be very handy and thus the earlier sale. And yes, it is again one of my Super Sales with ALL eBooks 50% off! There will be no other eBook sale then later this year so if you were already thinking about getting the one or other digital copy of my books for Christmas, this is the right time! Offer will be on until Thanksgiving though.

So please check out my Lulu site here to grab the sales.

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Thank you for your attention and have a great time at and around the DTI (jealous)! 🙂

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