Steve Waszak

Hi John, An appealing, intriguing tsuba here. My initial thought is that the zogan may be a later addition to an earlier ita plate. Your observations of the various features of the tsuba, including those that are "at odds," are good ones. As you say, while the Kunitomo employed the sawari inlay and forged quality steel for their tsuba, the overall design of this piece speaks to a pre-Edo sensibility, I would say. The thinness of the plate, in particular, has me thinking this tsuba can't be Edo, or at least, not the part of the Edo period in which Hazama tsuba are thought/known to have been made. Further, again as you have noted, the rendering of the motif is not done in a manner consistent with usual Hazama work. In fact, the only real strong indicator of anything having to do with Hazama, it seems, is the use of sawari inlay. I don't recall offhand if sawari was an invention of the Kunitomo, or if it had existed/been used well prior to their popularizing of it. In any case, the dimensions of this tsuba, together with its design (shape, engraving, large, elongated ryo-hitsu, and rendering of the motif) and metal quality, suggest a pre-Edo time of manufacture, specifically Momoyama. I would suppose ko-Shoami here. Whatever it is, it is a really strong, highly appealing tsuba, I think. I will look forward to others' comments... Thanks for presenting this, John... Cheers, Steve

Interesting tsubs, Mariusz. I don't think I've seen one quite like this before. I wouldn't be able to locate this piece with confidence in a particular school, but I would agree with Ford: not cast and of the Edo Period (mid-to-late-Edo). Here is an image of the iconic Owari crab tsuba from the Tokyo National Museum. Obviously very different from yours there, but since you asked for crab tsuba... Cheers, Steve

Thanks for the explanation, Reinhard. Very interesting and thought-provoking. ;o) Cheers, Steve

Hi Reinhard, I'm just a little confused: when you say "this" in the above sentence, could you specify exactly what you're referring to? Thanks. Cheers, Steve

Ford, you allude here to one of the long-time "mysteries" concerning Myoju: how to explain his emergence when there is so little (if any) indication of where he could have learned his skills, found the inspiration for his motifs/designs, etc... There are exceedingly murky references to the "ko-Umetada," but even this group is not, as I understand it, to be seen as the foundation from which Myoju emerged, since the ko-Umetada are taken to be an un-related group working concurrently with Myoju, rather than earlier. So, as you say here, Ford, how to explain his skills and designs? The idea that there actually may have been two Myojus---one the father of Shinto blades, and the other a talented tsubako---is actually reminiscent of the debate about whether the katchushi Myochin Nobuiye was the same man as the tsubako Nobuiye (the thinking at the time of this debate being that there was only one tsubako Nobuiye). I believe this latter debate has now been "decided," with the conclusion drawn that the katchushi and (one of) the tsubako were not the same men. It is worth noting that, in no small way, it was close scrutiny of the respective mei involved that allowed for a reasonably confident determination to be made (in addition to observations made concerning techniques in forging, the likelihood that a famous armorer would have the time to develop the skills to make such superb tsuba and then also make so many of them, etc...). So, I go back to the matter of the mei on the blades' nagako and that on the tsuba: are these mei of the same hand, or not? It seems likely that it would require actually having the blades and the tsuba on a table together to have any chance of knowing for sure, but maybe not, I don't know... In any event, the "precedent" set by the Myochin Nobuiye example suggests the possibility, at least, that there were indeed two Myojus. This "precedent" is even more plausible given that the time periods involved (Nobuiye, Myoju) are not too distant from one another, and that the practice of signing tsuba was at those times still relatively novel (thus suggesting the lack of a firmly-established tradition prescribing the do's and don'ts of signing tsuba). Tangentially speaking, I think more research has to be done on Momoyama practices as regards the possible formation of ateliers in which small groups of talented artisans produced pieces under the supervision of "masters" and who, with the master's approval, "signed" their pieces with the workshop "mei." In such a scenario, we would have excellent tsuba being produced not by one great artist with a famous name, but by two or three, or even more, perhaps, all signing with the same mei. Likely? I don't know. But worth considering, I think... ;o) Cheers, Steve

Great discussion, guys... There is another Myoju tsuba whose photo really should be reproduced here: it is illustrated in the Haynes Catalogue, #7. I don't have a scanner at the moment. Could anyone who has this catalogue scan that image and post it here? Thanks... ;o) Cheers, Steve

Sorry, Paul... I selected the text and hit the "quote" button... Not sure what happened. Maybe Brian can get in there and correct it? It was Ford I was looking to quote, I believe... ;o) Cheers, Steve

Two more Myoju tsuba...

Fascinating discussion... I have a couple of thoughts/comments on the above... First, how do the mei on the tsuba and those on the nakago of his blades compare? I haven't examined the two in any comparative way before, but obviously, this would have been the subject of much scrutiny. For those who doubt that the Myoju who made the blades is the same man who made the tsuba, I would imagine that there may be a bit of doubt in your minds as to the similarity in the respective mei, no? As to the issue with Myoju's dates vs. Ogata's, if the blade Myoju was one man, and there was another Myoju who made the tsuba, it would be theoretically possible that the tsuba man came later (i.e. during Ogata's time)... However, Ford, when you say that the early Higo tsubako were "coming to the fore at the same time Ogata Korin was active," I'm a bit confused. According to my information, Hirata Hikozo died in the 1630s, Shimizu Jinbei died in the 1670s, and both Hayashi Matashichi and Nishigaki Kanshiro died in the 1690s. If Ogata Korin was born in 1658, he'd have been just over 30 years old by the time all of the four Higo masters were dead. So unless you're speaking of second-generation "early Higo masters" in your statement here, the dates would seem to pose a problem. Why is it not possible (it would seem) that, rather than it always being the painter who inspires the tsubako, it is the tsubako who inspires the painter? If Myoju did make the tsuba he is credited with, and if he made them when he is supposed to have, given his illustrious name, and given that his work would have been very well known among the upper class, why couldn't Ogata Korin (and for that matter, any of the four Higo masters) have been influenced by Myoju? If the mei on the nakago and the mei on the tsuba align (and if the experts who are anal about examining mei so closely assert that they do, in fact, align), then what seems at least as likely to me as any of the ideas expressed thus far in this thread is that Myoju did indeed make both the blades and the tsuba, and it was (one or more) of the Higo masters who borrowed from Myoju. The one guy to look at, especially, is Hirata Hikozo. He is the earliest of the Higo men. He was the teacher, I believe, of Shimizu and Nishigaki. He is the master of soft metal among the Higo men (as Myoju is a master of soft metal, also). I know that Hirata Hikozo came to Higo later in his life, but I can't recall off the top of my head where he migrated from. If it turned out that he and Myoju lived in the same area for a while earlier on, perhaps this may explain, in part, the resemblance of some Higo work to that of Myoju. As I say, a fascinating discussion. I'll look forward to further thoughts... Cheers, Steve

Cool tsuba, Grey. Thanks for posting. Any attribution? Cheers, Steve

Great images, Markus. Thanks for posting these... So hard to say without having the pieces in hand, and even then... Actually, if these were works of the mid-Muromachi, I'd be more confident of this loss of zogan actually being purely loss of zogan; but because Myoju was a Momoyama artist, the question becomes clouded, as the Tea aesthetic was so ascendent then. The power of the unfinished statement was a fairly major aesthetic ideal in those times... Thanks again for posting these images, Markus... ) Cheers, Steve

I would agree: more zogan, but not necessarily zogan everywhere we see the carving "to be inlaid." Steve

Hi Mark, Oh yes, this is not all that unusual, actually. To deliberately "leave out" inlay in spots is to pursue that wabi-sabi aesthetic, something akin to potters deliberately gouging the foot (or lip) of a tea bowl. Myoju was known as a master of inlay, at least on a par with the ko-Shoami. I find it unlikely, though not impossible, of course, that so much zogan would have "fallen out" of the tsuba... Just my opinion, of course... ;o) Cheers, Steve P.S. Ford, a piece's having attained "only" Hozon status doesn't mean that's all it merits; it simply means it hasn't been submitted for higher papers, no? Or am I wrong about that?

Agreed. Masterwork. The subtleties this tsuba exhibits are exceedingly impressive, from the nuances involving its overall shape to the various relational details concerning the placement of the sukashi, the dimensions of the sukashi, the finish of the metal (I don't think it's as degraded as it appears; I think much of this is deliberate), and the "unfinished" aspect of the zogan. The contrast between the rather formal, upper-class tastes expressed via the tsuba's shape, sukashi, and perimeter work near the mimi (note that this bori/design also extends onto the mimi itself), on the one hand, with the "weathered" metal of the surface and the "missing" inlay, on the other, allows this tsuba to achieve a loftiness of aesthetic expression achieved by few others. I will agree that the photos could be better, but its qualities still shine through even these less-than-ideal images. Incidentally, as Umetada Myoju was a celebrated artist/smith in his own time, working in Kyoto, and given that his reputation never sagged after his passing, it seems unlikely that any of his works would be allowed to rot away in some untended tansu. This consideration, then, lends credence to the reading of this tsuba, in its current state, as presenting the aesthetic it currently does (more or less). Thanks for presenting this, Eric... Cheers, Steve

Hi Roy, Would you happen to have photos of the tsuba? Cheers, Steve

Koshoyama bookseller has a copy for 14,700 yen... There's a link to their site here at NMB... Cheers, Steve

Bruce, Did you mean "state-of-presentation" or "state of preservation"? I was just a bit confused... Thanks, Steve

Hi kmark, What you'll want to pick up is the Tokyo National Museum's publication of Uchigatana Goshirae: The Art of Japanese Sword Mounting. There are a number of excellent late-Muromachi and Momoyama period koshirae illustrated in this coffee-table-sized book. Highly recommended. Cheers, Steve

Hi Rich, To my eye, yours is older and quite differently executed with regard to finish than the other. I would suppose the other is a "copy" of yours, meaning that it is a rather later rendering of the same design. Judging from photos here only, of course, but yours appears to be richer, with a deeper patina, and more carefully modeled sculpting of the details. In-hand may tell a different story, but that's what the photos suggest to me, anyway... ) I don't see these coming from the same workshop, as the metal and metal work appear too different... Cheers, Steve

Greetings all, I've heard it mentioned here and there that certain Japanese publications (with English translations?) offer a sort of "ranking" of tsubako. I'm wondering if anyone here knows which publication(s) this might be. Thanks for any help... Cheers, Steve

The problem I have with the lotus theory is that, assuming we're reading it as a lotus leaf rising from the bottom to meet another descending from the top, the area in the middle is much wider than it has to be to accommodate the seppa-dai, and yet, all that metal would not be needed for the lotus design either, so why is it there? Lotus leaves could easily be rendered more gracefully by simply removing some of the middle from the center to the right and left of the seppa-dai, so why wasn't this done? The butterfly theory is made problematic for me because of the elements shooting off of the rim to meet the "wings" of the butterfly; what are these structures pursuant to achieving a butterfly motif? They do appear as some sort of "stem" in my eyes, and yet... Cheers, Steve

Hi Henry, Very nice guard. The metal looks excellent, and that hitsuana is intriguing... ;o) I've been thinking about your question here, though, and I can't say that I'm able even to narrow it down very usefully (maybe some morning coffee will help). I get the sense that the subject is not merely pure abstraction, but that some "thing" is being abstracted here. Just can't make out what that is yet... Do you have any thoughts on it yourself? ) Cheers, Steve

Hi Andrey, Here is a second-generation Hoan (Kaneshige) tsuba. As you can see, the work is quite fine. This dates, I believe, to the latter part of the early-Edo period. Christian is correct, I feel, in observing that your tsuba doesn't fit the vogue popular at the time of the third or fourth generation Hoan. I am not aware of these later-generation Hoan producing ko-katchushi style guards, but that doesn't mean they didn't; I'm just not aware of any... I have a vague recollection, however, of seeing at least one of these later-generation Hoan inscribed with a mei that had a look/feel very much like the one on your guard (rather large and "reedy" looking). I find it curious that there are no chisel marks around the nakago-ana... An interesting tsuba, Andrey. Thanks for posting... Cheers, Steve

Hi Keith, I suppose your words underscore why it is that there is something of a fued among the various camps over what is the proper aesthetic condition of a tsuba, and then what the proper cleaning method and degree would be to achieve than aesthetic. It almost seems to boil down to trying to lasso a definition for beauty. So we're damned if we do, damned if we don't when it comes to tsuba care, it would seem. Very frustrating and disconcerting. but that's how it seems to me at the moment. Regardless of what course one might take in the care of his tsuba, some will agree, some won't. It appears unavoidable... :? Curran, I am a little confused by what you say here. When you contrast pure preservation vs. the way these tsuba would have looked in actual use and maintenance during their active life, would you be able to detail this contrast for us? You mention pure long-term preservation here, too; I guess I don't quite follow your meaning when you say "pure preservation" (vs. something else). And elaboration would be much appreciated! Thanks. Cheers, Steve

Fascinating stuff, guys. I will say, having seen the tsuba in person less than a year ago in San Francisco, its appearance is much more like the image from the catalogue that Pete first reproduced here for us than it is like the 1952 "version." When I saw it, it really looked wonderful: the rust on the guard didn't detract from the design; in fact, it even conferred an extra beauty to it, there in the filtered light of the museum. Of course, I didn't see it in direct sunlight (which likely would have told a very different story), and my own views of it appearing beautiful in its condition at the time is entirely subjective. My concerns in this thread have been, as I've said, twofold: what is the "proper" aesthetic condition of a tsuba, on the one hand, and what is good for the tsuba (in terms of rust removal), on the other. Ford, I hadn't known that bit about silver sulphide being actually destructive of the silver. Very interesting. Certainly explains why so many Jingo tsuba have their silver dragons in such a state... Cheers, Steve