Steve Waszak

It is with much sadness that I have to present the news here that the long-time tsuba scholar and historian, Bruce Kirkpatrick, has passed away (this past Monday). Many here may not have known, or known of Bruce, as he did not participate in online forums. However, he was a major figure in tosogu scholarship, particularly tsuba, having been involved in studying, researching, and collecting Japanese sword guards for over fifty years. Unfortunately, Bruce was quite reluctant to publish his findings and insights, and, despite my frequent encouragement, he could never be persuaded to put his thoughts into writing. This is a great loss for all of us who are serious in our pursuit of tosogu study and learning. In the twenty-plus years I have been deeply involved in the scholarship, connoisseurship, and collecting of tsuba, I have never encountered another with the degree and breadth of insight Bruce had in this field. His ability and capacity to identify and put together seemingly disparate pieces of information from the most widely scattered sources, and to do so convincingly, was nothing short of astonishing. Ever the iconoclast, his views not infrequently challenged the status-quo traditional understandings of many aspects of tsuba, including those pertaining to schools, construction methods, influences on design, and many other aspects. He was often forceful and unapologetic about issuing these challenges; for some, his manner was too churlish, harsh, and disrespectful of tradition, and so, there were those who chose not to associate with Bruce. While I understand such sentiments (and felt some of these myself), the brilliant insights he had on so many topics in the world of tsuba ultimately more than made up for his thorny nature. I can say emphatically here that I have learned more from Bruce about tsuba and the cultural milieu that informed so much about them than I have from all other sources combined. Historian, aesthete, cultural critic par excellence, Bruce will be sorely missed by those of us who had the opportunity to know him well. RIP Bruce

Absolutely can be trusted. 100% great to deal with. You can have full confidence.

Hi David, Not surprised that the two Yamakichibei works you acquired from me in 2017 would come back gimei if submitted to shinsa. That is a predictable result, given the NBTHK's flawed perspective on Yamakichibei, as Glen and I have been referencing here. These two would have been daisaku/daimei works -- still a part of the late-Yamakichibei atelier in the early Edo Period, but not made by the master Low-Crossbar smith himself. Essentially, the Low-Crossbar Yamakichibei that have the best chance of passing shinsa will be pieces the master made himself, especially if these are larger works (as in the example I post above [which is unpapered, however, as I don't submit works to shinsa, for various reasons]). Tsuba with the Low-Crossbar mei that are smaller -- 68-72mm -- and which are more rote in their designs and workmanship, will rarely pass shinsa. Again, this is predictable (though the second example below, is an exception of sorts. It is larger than most daisaku/daimei works). Here is a link to a couple of Low-Crossbar Yamakichibei tsuba that have been papered. The first is certainly a piece by the master, a very strong, large, expressive form, appearing in the fourth row of tsuba presented in the "Tsuba Sale" section of this website: http://www.jp-sword.com/ This second one (see Row 8 of the Tsuba Sale section of the above website) is likely a daisaku/daimei piece. Note the relative lack of dynamism and vitality in this tsuba when compared with the example above, and when compareed with the large mokko guard I posted an image of in an earlier post. The difference in expressive power is notable. This is the rare exception where what (I am confident) is a daisaku/daimei work does pass shinsa and is papered. *While both of these examples here are described in the captions of the site on which they appear as "shodai" works, this, again, is in error. Please refer to my earlier posts above on this point.

Well, this piece is relatively bland, lacking the dynamism and sensitivity in aesthetic expression seen in genuine works. It presents as rather stiff, and the mei details do not conform to those of any of the true early smiths. So, this being gimei is a judgment I would agree with, and a determination that is easy to make. It's not a bad tsuba as tsuba go; it's just not a genuine Yamakichibei work.

Good post, Glen. Thanks for this. Yes, the Low-Crossbar smith was undoubtedly part of the early group of Yamakichibei smiths, well predating the Sakura Yamakichibei smith by as much as half a century. The daisaku/daimei phenomenon associated with the Low-Crossbar smith, though, clearly (to me) locates him later in the Momoyama Period to earliest-Edo period. These daisaku/daimei guards carry a definite Low-Crossbar mei, which differs sharply in many ways from that of Yamasaka Kichibei or of the Meijin-Shodai. This daisaiku/daimei phenomenon is culturally and temporally consistent with social evolutions in craft "factories" that emerged and grew after the dawn of the 17th century. The huge quantity and relatively low(er) quality of these Low-Crossbar-signed daisaku/daimei works is in keeping with the kind of production we would expect to see out of a higher-volume/output "factory" context. Since there are FAR more of these Low-Crossbar daisaku/daimei tsuba extant than all other Yamakichibei sword guards combined, we cannot logically locate their production time to the beginning of the Yamakichibei atelier. The actual Low-Crossbar master's workmanship is much superior to what we see in even the best daisaku/daimei tsuba, but the Low-Crossbar smith's guards are notably distinct from either the Meijin-Shodai's or Yamasaka Kichibei's. The difference between Low-Crossbar work and that of the Meijin-Shodai, in particular, is rather stark. Low-Crossbar work is often more overtly dramatic and bold, featuring plate work (tsuchime and finishing) that is significantly more pronounced than the Meijin-Shodai's, whose plates are usually relatively quiet and reserved (for a Yamakichibei work, that is). See images below. The large mokko tsuba is a Low-Crossbar piece; the other two (with the long-eared rabbits or dragonflies motif, and then with the suhama motif, respectively) feature plates whose expression is more subdued, but still resonant with strength, of course. As for the actual Shodai, this would undoubtedly be Yamasaka Kichibei. There can be no logical dissent here. It simply would not be done -- and would not even be conceivable, culturally, really -- for a later Yamakichibei smith to be audacious enough to ADD another character to the already-established Yamakichibei art name, when that art name had been decided by a different (would-be founding) smith. Moreover, the workmanship and design choices seen in Yamasaka works and then in works by the Meijin-Shodai show a clear and strong relationship between them, much more so than in any would-be relationship between Yamasaka and the Low-Crossbar master. The frequent use of kuruma-sukashi designs, additionally, locates them as contemporaneous with the Nobuiye smiths and with Kawaguchi Hoan, as all four of these smiths -- working in Kiyosu in Owari Province -- would have been in "design dialogue" with one another, as, in keeping with Japanese traditions, craftsmen in the same field often lived in the same neighborhood. Meanwhile, of the many Low-Crossbar pieces I've seen, there have been no kuruma-sukashi works, even by the daisaku/daimei workers. Evidently, that vogue had passed by the time of the Low-Crossbar smith. Even the Nidai Yamakichibei was scarcely making such kuruma-sukashi pieces: I have seen only one such piece by him in all the time I've been focused on this group. While none of the above may amount to "hard factual evidence," and may indeed be "only" a theory, I honestly do not see any other theory that does have merit. The Low-Crossbar-smith-as-Shodai theory does not have any merit, in my view. The evidence for it is so weak that it does not stand up to even the most casual scrutiny. This said, it is clear, as I stated to begin with (and echoing you, Glen), that the Low-Crossbar smith is indeed a part of the early Yamakichibei atelier, and that works by him are not "gimei" as the Shinsa results would have it. I am amused, actually, by the dynamic that explains why Low-Crossbar works may be papered (implicitly) as Shodai: the work is so good that it simply cannot be fake, yet the signature differs radically from that of the Meijin-Shodai. Rather than recognizing the obvious (the original understanding of the Yamakichibei group is wrong), they instead contrive the notion that the Meijin-Shodai changed his signature in all these different ways. Such "understandings" do a great disservice to tsuba scholarship. Low-Crossbar Yamakichibei. Mokkogata. Bird-and-kama motif. Meijin-Shodai Yamakichibei. Nagamarugata. Long-eared rabbit or dragonfly motif. Meijin-Shodai Yamakichibei. Mutsu Mokkogata. Suhama motif.

Hi Grev, Your question is a good one, and a bit more complicated than it might appear. The short answer to your question is yes, Yamakichibei tsuba with a Low-Crossbar mei have indeed passed shinsa; in fact, one of the 11 or 12 Juyo Yamakichibei guards features a Low-Crossbar mei. I know of several others with this mei that are papered as well. Here's the catch, though: tsuba with this mei that have passed shinsa are papered as though they are Shodai work. The truth, however, is that they are not, as close analytical comparison of Low-Crossbar-signed guards with actual (Meijin-) Shodai guards will clearly show, both in the workmanship of the tsuba themselves, and in the rendering of the respective signatures. The rationale for papering Low-Crossbar Yamakichibei works as (Meijin-) Shodai works is explained as follows: "Changes in the way that the Shodai inscribed his signatures are recognized and accepted." This is nonsense, I'm afraid. As I say, the actual workmanship of the tsuba made by the Meijin-Shodai Yamakichibei differs significantly from that seen in the works produced by the Low-Crossbar smith. Beyond this, though, the Low-Crossbar signature is radically different from the Meijin-Shodai's. Every part of the signature, from the "Yama" ji to the "Kichi" ji to the "Bei" ji is not only dramatically different, but the differences are consistent in the works of the two. Moreover, there are no sword guards that I have seen (and I have been studying this subject for more than twenty years) that could remotely be identified or described as having a "hybrid mei" -- one that has elements in the mei drawn from a typical Meijin-Shodai tsuba and also elements drawn from a standard Low-Crossbar work. It is abundantly evident that the Shinsa teams are either genuinely erring in their papering of Low-Crossbar works as (Meijin-) Shodai works, or are motivated by some other factor. For a far more detailed analysis of this subject, see the article I did on the Yamakichibei group of tsubako, available in the Articles section here on NMB. Hope this helps, Grev.

Excellent tsuba. Even better price. If I collected Higo, this would be gone.

Great observation, Tim. I had seen the elements as chrysanthemums, too, but had not linked it to Kusunoki. Many thanks for that! I do wonder how these kiku are fitted into the larger sukashi element, though. What does the whole of this sukashi element -- kiku included -- mean? And since we see the same element in your tsuba here, what are the semantics in association with the respective sukashi elements opposite this kiku sukashi form? Good stuff, Tim. Thanks again. Piers, thanks for your thoughts, too! But IS that a broken water wheel? I have my doubts. The end elements of the "wheel" seem oddly truncated, if it's supposed to depict a broken wheen. I'm reminded more of something like a segmented arthropod.

Most curious, yes. I suppose the added hitsu must have been very slight, for the three elements that you refer to, Piers, are all pretty similar in size and shape, so it doesn't seem that adding the hitsu affected these much, if at all. Most likely, the added hitsu merely intruded on the seppa-dai slightly. Here is another piece I am puzzling over as regards the motif elements. The one on the left is similar to that in the tsuba above, but is missing the three extra elements. In this piece, I am reminded of a carpenter's planer, such as that seen here: https://www.jauce.com/auction/q1172873118

Thanks, guys. Appreciate it. I don't know that this reading of the motif is correct (seems like quite a reach -- even the kuruma/wheel sukashi is dubious), but many thanks for the replies.

Appreciate help with translating the kanji used to describe/identify the motif element this tsuba features. The description appears at the top of the vertical column of writing, specifically, it's the first two characters I need assistance with. Many thanks.

Very interesting post, Bobby. Thanks. I'd be curious to know the rationale used to "liken" a particular smith to a specific painter. What does "liken" mean here? I'd also be interested to see how tsubako would fare in this experiment.

I would echo Ray's excellent words here. The pursuit of studying and collecting nihonto and tosogu essentially necessitates some degree of comfort with what I call "living with the question." There is relatively little certainty in our pursuit; even in many cases with signed works, we can not be sure of the genuineness of a mei, or perhaps the generation of the maker when several generations used the same name to sign with. As with many or most fields, too, seasoned, experienced scholars and other experts can look at the same object or mei and reach different conclusions, disagreeing with one another slightly, or even dramatically. It is inherent in this field that such will be the case oftentimes. If one is uncomfortable with the lack of certainty that is so prevalent, then another collecting focus becomes more inviting. However, I would encourage new enthusiasts to experiment with living with questions, setting aside the "need to know," and in the meantime, enjoying the journey of learning and of appreciating the incredible objects that come before us.

An early-Edo koshirae for a Wakasa no kami Ujifusa O-tanto, blade signed and dated to Genki 3 (1572). The koshirae is thought by some knowledgeable folks to be original to the blade, but I feel it is more likely to be early-Edo, latest-Momoyama at the earliest. There were various times during late-Momoyama and early-Edo that bolder saya were briefly fashionable, but the Tokugawa government handed down edicts restricting/forbidding the use of such flamboyant displays. The periods I'm most aware of here would be the last 10-12 years of Momoyama (1603-1615), the mid- to late-1620s, and then Genroku at the end of the 17th century. I feel that this koshirae is most likely one of the earlier periods, maybe the 1620s, but those more knowledgeable than I can probably provide a much more informed opinion. The saya is lacquered in black, brown, and red, with some fading to all of it over the centuries. The saya is also peppered with more than four hundred inlaid elements, made of iron, perhaps, or lead? Pewter? I'm really not sure. The koshirae is in aikuchi mounts, with shakudo log-eared rabbit menuki (probably Kyo-kinko). The habaki is silver (or silver-plated), I believe, in a kiku motif. The blade presents with a hitatsura hamon; perhaps the boldness of the saya was seen by the individual commissioning it to suit such a blade. Detailed sayagaki by Tanobe-sensei extolling the virtues of the blade.

Love that work of calligraphy, Stephen. Very powerful. And thank you for the history on Tetsugyu. As you note in your post here, I really think that the calligraphic connections, so to speak, that may be made between the signatures/inscriptions on tsuba and other features/aspects of the work is a significantly under-studied area. Moreover, the various and specific meanings of the kanji used for (different parts of) the names of the smiths (and/or their ateliers) merits much more attention than I have seen given to that, at least in Western literature (or even in translated Japanese literature). An example of what I mean here may be seen in the notion of "good luck" associations between the way one part of a name is written and alternative ways it may be (or may have been) written. I know that in the Azuchi-Momoyama years, for instance, a considerable amount of serious weight was given to things like omens, luck, premonitions, and so on. How, then, this may have been manifest in the determining of "art names" for smiths, and for the particular kanji used for those names, is worth looking into with some serious effort, I think. I will be pursuing this some going forward, but also think that the actual calligraphic expression in the way some tsuba are signed/inscribed is itself a worthy pursuit. By the way, the flamboyant mei you mention regarding Hoan tsuba is, in my opinion, really seen only in works by Hoan Kanenobu, whose mei is quite distinctive owing to his "exuberance" in the rendering of it. Other Hoan smiths are more sedate in their signing of their works.